Stephlock
by short-skirtbluescarf
Summary: Sequel to Repens. Sherlock and Stephanie fell in love when she visited her Aunt Hudson on holiday. Neither ever knew this sort of love was possible- especially for them. A series of one-shots/shorts that finish their romantic summer together in London then follows Stephanie through her last year at Oxford. What adventures and challenges await them? Mostly T with a few M chapts
1. First Week (Part 1)

**As promised, here is the first chapt. Thanks again for the 10,000 reads on Repens. That seriously meant the world. As said before, PLEASE PLEASE send me suggestions and requests for the shorts/one-shots. It can seriously be anything. There will be a general plot but my heart isn't set on any particular details and I can skip around. You'll see as we go along. Reviews make my day so let me know what you think- good and bad. My readers are the best! =) Cheers!**

* * *

**Monday-**

Sherlock walked up the steps to his flat. The streets were quiet yet he suddenly became aware of music upstairs. It was classical and sung in Italian. For a moment, he stood at the door taking in the high alto's flawless phrasing and impeccable pronunciations of the romantic lyrics. Stephanie listened to classical Italian? Since when?

That was going to be the question he asked when entering their home, his cinematic entry. Doing his best to keep quiet, he unlocked then opened the door. Where had she found a radio? Sherlock rounded the corner into the kitchen to find his girlfriend cooking on the stove singing to the top of her lungs. His eyes bulged as he allowed his jaw to drop a bit. Her attention remained on the food until she felt eyes on her. The now silent Stephanie glanced over to find her boyfriend shamelessly gawking at her. Shock looked very good on him, she thought. The moment was cherished and she immediately wondered how long it would be until she saw this specific expression a second time.

Collecting himself, Sherlock gave an obviously fake cough and stated, "You sing." A brief thoughtful pause. "I mean, of course you do. I knew that much from my first deductions of you- your treble clef necklace and uncallused fingers. You speak so melodically every day but I had never heard you…" He glanced to his feet, not knowing what exactly to say.

"Yes, I sing," she smiled. "All sorts of wonderful genres and languages. French is alright. German is disturbingly beautiful. Latin is always cheery."

"And Italian, or so I hear," he added with unusual interest in his voice- not much but enough to tell on him. He could smell the spices used on the Thai mixture of vegetables and chicken.

"Italian, my favorite," she passionately sighed. "Some say the true language of romance. The French disagree, of course."

He walked towards her and she continued stirring and turning the oven knobs. A quick shiver ran down her back as his hands gently slid down her sides. She couldn't help a smile and was about to give a witty remark when his cool hands slid just beneath her shirt and traced their way back up her waist just beside her chest. Hardly able to breath, let alone concentrate on cooking, Steph melted into his touch. The music continued and had faded into background sound- more like the soundtrack to the moment.

"Please continue," he whispered into her ear, hands moving back down her body.

Did he know what he was asking? All ability to think of anything besides the way his hands felt on her had vanished the moment his skin caressed hers. As she began the next phrase Sherlock pulled her hair over her right shoulder and let the red strands drape down her chest. Before she could feel cool air hit her warm skin, his lips pressed in the crook where her shoulder became neck. Fighting with her mind to comply to his wish for song, she pushed out another few words. They had come out much softer than before and the lyrics were slowly blocked from her memory. All speech ended when his lips feathered and nipped their way up her neck to her ear.

"I can't hear you," he breathed, the heat of his words moist on her skin.

Unable to take anymore she turned on her heels, threw her arms around his neck, then her lips crushed against his with the most pleasant unexpected passion. Sherlock hadn't anticipated his teasing to get her so worked up this quickly. He had only been teasing but was more than willing to go along with whatever she had in mind. His hands pressed against her shoulder blades to push her closer into his chest, their kisses deepened.

"What about the food?" he asked between kisses, his eyes still closed and pulse still rising.

"I'm not hungry anymore," she shakily answered. "At least not for that."

He immediately knew what she was implying and his own hunger for food seemed to disappear. His hunger for her, on the other hand, was fiercely building. He could no longer pretend that he didn't want her the way she obviously needed him. His body and half-working mind had just prepared to pick her up to carry her down the hall when the door unlocked downstairs.

John, they thought in unison.

Their lips parted, her hands untangled from his hair while his fell back to her waist, each took a few quick deep breaths, then Stephanie turned back towards the food now sizzling loudly on the stove. A low sensual chuckle came from behind the blushing girl then Sherlock placed one last kiss on her shoulder. Smiling her own giddy grin, she released a half laugh while turning the stove burner off. As if on cue, the song ended and the room became quiet, except for the popping vegetables.

"You'll have to finish that song for me later," he teased.

She only rolled her eyes at him then John walked through the door. It had only been six seconds since they heard the click of the lock but she adored when things like this happened- John walking in when things were just heating up, the sudden phone call from her parents when his tongue was exploring her mouth, her aunt shouting something up the stairs just as they stumbled into his bedroom, and such. This was the part of life she had sorely been missing out on.

"Smells fantastic in here!" John excitedly announced.

If only he had known. Steph's only hope was that no one found a hair in their food.

"I'll set the table," Sherlock nearly laughed, giving her hips one last squeeze before moving out of her reach.

**Tuesday-**

Sherlock and John were just coming home from the frustrating case neither thought would ever end. They did very well working together but things went terribly slow when involved persons intentionally gave wrong information. Their latest client had practically lied about everything having to do with the case. As it turned out, they were simply trying to put an innocent man, someone refusing to be involved in an illegal favor, behind bars. But the consulting detective had seen through the many lies in a matter of time. Unfortunately, it hadn't been soon enough and the two felt as if their day had been wasted. The two returned home for the night but soon realized that the flat was empty. The moment they decided Steph was out, Sherlock received a text from her saying she was downstairs.

"I'll pop down to check on her then we can decide what to do for the remainder of the evening," the suddenly relaxed detective stated, obviously needing to see his girlfriend.

He practically jogged down the stairs anticipating the pair of eyes and little smirk that would immediately calm any unwanted stress left over from the case. The two women's laughter could be heard from the hallway- warm sentiment dripping from each light bounce of their voices. Her laugh alone began to sooth him.

The door opened and the two ladies were at the table looking through hundreds of photographs. Most were more than a decade old, the once glossy paper wrinkled and discolored. A few were older than Steph and appeared to be a young at first glance. Some were taken inside buildings but the majority were people posing in various places outdoors.

As if in slow motion, his beautiful angel looked up towards him with a bright smile and shimmering eyes. All was suddenly well in his world of constant chaos. She looked so happy. He took his own photograph of her that moment in his mind, one he would always cherish.

"Hello, handsome," she greeted him.

"Afternoon," he returned with an equally affectionate yet casual tone.

"Oh, Sherlock, have a seat. The kettle is just about to boil," giggled rising to her feet.

He took the empty seat beside his girlfriend then she gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

"You're in a good mood," he noticed aloud.

"Yes, having a wonderful time. Aren't we, auntie?" the girl chuckled in a sarcastic yet playful manner, perhaps an inside joke of some sort.

"A wonderful time remembering and finding blackmail for your mother. She pretends to be the calm and quiet sister but here is all the evidence you need to prove otherwise," the old dear beamed. "My, I haven't laughed like this for ages. We should have done this sooner."

Stephanie dug through a certain pile and held a particular photo for Sherlock to examine.

"Your aunts and mother, I assume?"

"They were so young then. Mum could have passed for a model," the young woman sighed in amazement.

"She had the beauty but I had the adventurous spirit she envied. The blokes always seemed to ask her for the dates but they came to me when they wanted to go somewhere and get into some innocent trouble," the land lady recalled from the days of her youth. "I suppose you are the perfect mixture." The aunt lovingly stroked her niece's cheek before digging into one of three boxes at her feet.

"You go on up. I'll be a while," his mischievous beauty grinned.

"It's quite alright. Our case ended sooner than we had planned."

"I'm sorry. Sounds like it was a bit complicated."

"Actually it was less complex than I would have hoped but it reminded me how ignorant people can be," he darkly groaned. Sherlock's entire demeanor changed when he pretended to be amused and asked, " , tell me where this one was taken. The landscape is beautiful."

"Oh, this was Steph's mother's sixteenth birthday," she began.

The story wasn't as comical as the two family members found it but something about the whole scene made Sherlock wonder if all families experienced memories like this. His family had never really done anything memorable together as a unit yet he hadn't felt deprived of those unmade memories until now.

Tale after tale, laugh after laugh, explanations, and old memories filled the early hours of the evening. When the last box had been gone through and the last memory had been told, Stephanie shared a sweet embrace with her aunt and thanked her for the lovely day. Something pulled at Sherlock's improved heart seeing the strong bond between the two. How had he not appreciated it until now? He was suddenly glad that they had eachother in their almost lonely lives.

Sherlock left 's flat with a better understanding of the oldest and youngest woman of importance in his life. As they shared stories, he couldn't help deducing a few things about the family as a whole and the two at the table individually. The complexity of the relationship between and her two sisters became more clear. Stephanie's own personal dilemma made more sense: her mother had grown jealous of the girl becoming more like her rebellious sister. Now that he thought about it, he was surprised the mother allowed Steph to spend so much time in London. Perhaps the woman would someday resent her daughter for her adventures the way she had grown to resent her own sister, a happily single woman living in central London.

"That was good. Thank you for staying. It meant the world to us both," she confessed with great appreciation while taking her boyfriend's hand to lead him upstairs.

They found John on his fourth hour of watching Doctor Who and all agreed to go to the Baker Street Chinese before they completely starved. Conversation was casual until the boys excitedly began sharing the details of the morning's case. Stephanie listened to them as Sherlock had listened at her aunt's table. The men were talking, mostly John telling and Sherlock adding specifics, but Stephanie's mind wandered elsewhere.

She had just witnessed something incredibly special. The clever girl knew good and well that Sherlock only looked at police photos relevant to his cases. The genius probably didn't care a bloody thing about her mother's sixteenth birthday or her aunt's many adventures in northern England yet he had listened and even asked a few questions to appease Aunt Hudson. It was a very selfless act of love and was done just for her. John ended the story then she gave a shoddy opinion of what little she had comprehended. They paid the bill then ventured back home.

While laying on Sherlock's chest, just before they fell asleep, her mind returned to her ever changing boyfriend. Many had sworn he had no heart but they didn't know the man she knew. They only knew the emotionally masked intelligent being. It was more than likely that she would be the only one to ever truly know this side of him.

"Sherlock?"

"Hmm?" he responded, already half asleep.

"I love you," she whispered. "With all of my heart I love you."


	2. The First Week (Part 2)

**Thanks to all who have taken interest in this little series! I'd love to hear from you, what you do and don't like. Suggestions and requests are greatly appreciated! Enjoy!**

* * *

**Wednesday-**

"Hey," the sweet voice he loved most whispered. "Hello," she half sang, a bit louder than the previous comment. His brain turned on but another few moments passed before his eyes opened. "Wake up, my love," she gently ordered in what sounded like concern.

She was already out of bed. Why was she up before him? She was never awake before him. Had something happened? And, bugger! What was that pounding in his head? Why did his insides suddenly feel as if they were twisted up in a ball? His eyes suddenly opened out of curiosity and in discomfort.

"Morning," she greeted him in a hushed voice. Steph was knelt beside their bed, a steaming cuppa on his nightstand. "How are you feeling?"

"I feel… rubbish," he moaned, the foreign phrase feeling odd on his lips.

"Thought so. Be right back."

A moment later she was gone. Sherlock's eyes closed and he rubbed his head, trying to remember which pressure points Watson told him relieved headaches. But he never had headaches so the information was never stored in his hard drive of a mind. The more he woke up, the more his body betrayed him. Yesterday, however wonderful the evening had been, was practically wasted work-wise. Today was not the day to miss more. What if Lestrade needed him? What if Molly had an unusual body needing to be examined by a superior mind? What if-

"Alright, then. Sit up and try to eat this," Steph smirked, looking as if she felt bad for him. A tray of his breakfast favorites was placed beside the tea, taking up the entire surface of the nightstand.

What was going on? Quickly, he glanced at his bedside clock.

"Eleven?" he hissed.

"Yeah. You slept in quite a bit. Must have needed the rest. You were still dead to the world when I got up at half past eight. Waited until nine then popped in to see if you were still dozing. You were a bit pale, more so than usual, and your arm was wrapped tight against your stomach. Checked your forehead and you were burning up."

Sherlock put a hand to his aching head and wondered why it felt cool to the touch though it burned from the inside.

"You've been taking care of me all morning?" he asked, mostly in disbelief.

"Only a bit."

"Don't let her lie to you," John entered with a knowing grin. "She's had a damp cloth on your head for the last two hours and has been working on breakfast the last thirty minutes," his flatmate announced, against the wishes of his too modest girlfriend. "I can schedule you an appointment if you'd like."

"Nonsense," Sherlock huffed, the notion completely ridiculous. He tried sitting up in bed but soon realized the difficulty of the simple task.

"We have the best doctor in London right here," Steph said meeting eyes with John. "_We_ can get him back on his feet in no time."

"Yes, we'll be out in the next hour," Sherlock stated, still unaware of how bad off he was.

"You, , can scarcely sit up in bed. There is no way I'm going to let you chase criminals today. Maybe tomorrow if you feel up to it."

"You're not my mother," he nearly yelled at her.

"No. I'm the next worst thing, your live-in girlfriend. So you're going to do as I say. And if you don't I'll have John sedate you so you'll relax and rest against your own stubborn will."

How could someone be so cross and sweet in the same precise moment? Sherlock decided right then that he wasn't going to make her upset. He hardly had the energy to eat his favorite breakfast. An argument with her this morning would bring nothing but trouble. His logic skills weren't even up to par this morning. This never happened!

"Try to eat and I'll be back in a while," she said before kissing his overly warm forehead.

"Fine. I don't need a nurse. If you come back and I'm gone don't worry," he scoffed, crossing his arms.

The grinning beauty only shook her head and rose to her feet. That little shaking motion of her head drove him mad. It was as if she was watching a toddler trying to reach something on the top cabinet. She may as well have said "how cute" or "poor sweet thing". Even as a toddler, he had never needed patronizing.

When she returned, almost an hour later, she immediately noticed the half empty plate. By the time her eyes found him, her sleeping boyfriend was coming to life once more. He acted as if he was trying to hide the fact that he had been resting. It wasn't until he couldn't sit up a second time that he resolved to being rude.

"Where have you been? It's been almost an hour. There's nowhere you could have been for an entire hour? I needed you," he complained.

Steph had to take a deep breath to hide the laugh of disbelief about to erupt from her. Who would have ever guessed? SherlockHolmes was a complete baby when ill.

"Well, you're not dying," she teased with a loving grin.

She took care of him all day, putting up with his rude outbursts, the unusually high amount of sarcasm, his arguing, and the affects of boredom he hadn't experienced since his college days. John tried to help but became too aggravated to stay in the flat; he was gone by two. At some times, Stephanie wanted to tell her difficult boyfriend to take care of himself the rest of the night but she remained unreasonably loyal. He would cross or mock her, stirring up memories from their competitive beginning.

Sherlock had fallen back to sleep around seven, leaving her with her silent thoughts. Steph was sitting by the bed watching him toss and turn in his sleep, still uncomfortable but gradually getting better. His fever broke around eight- then she got a fresh cool damp rag for his forehead. The urge to sleep was almost unbearable around nine. After aiding the intolerable sulk all day, she was more than ready to snuggle up on the couch and let the day's exhaustion take her.

Then he began to stir, the movements and breathing pattern suggested he'd wake up. Not wanting to wake him, she patiently and attentively watched him come to life on his own. His puffy tired eyes searched the room until he found her, just as she was when he'd falenl asleep.

"Steph?" he whispered, voice weak and almost guilty.

"I'm right here," the girl answered assumingly, her hand dabbing the cloth against his warm skin.

"I'm… I'm sorry for being obnoxious today. You've been more than kind and patient with me. And, quite honestly, no one has ever put up with me like that before. At least not when I was ill."

"You didn't make it easy," she admitted, a teasing sort of irritation playing in her tone.

"The truth is," he paused before revealing one of his most embarrassing secrets. "I don't like people to see me like this. Any time anyone, even John, has ever tried nursing me I run them off. Sometimes intentionally and other times because I just get so…" He couldn't even chose the proper word. Destructive? Cruel? Hateful? "Bored."

"Well, I completely understand wanting to be left alone when feeling rubbish." She moved from her bedside chair to the edge of his bed. Her fingers ran through his damp hair as she sighed, "You never ask for help, even when you need it. Maybe those defensive parts of you will always be there, and that is alright. Just please don't try to run me off again, not purposefully. It may work with others but remember, I'm not everyone else, Sherlock Holmes." Her adoring smirk melted his heart, though his concentrated expression didn't show the warm emotion."I'm the woman that loves you. No way or reason to push me aside- especially when you need someone."

He could have given any excuse or reason for behaving so beastly for the entire day. But that was the old him. This woman had changed parts of him he had never known needed changing. He was still overly arrogant, incredibly brilliant, and would always be a bit rude. Yet when it came to her, the woman he needed by his side, he didn't want to be that selfish sod. Sherlock took her hand and pressed it tenderly to his lips, holding it against his skin long enough for them to stare at one another. As he looked into her weary eyes, he made several deductions, ones that hurt more than he expected.

"You're about to fall over," he stated, the warm words tingling on the back of her hand. "You need your rest as well." She only nodded, trying to force the appearance of being fully alert. "Let me shower. I'm feeling much better and would like your company tonight."

"Your fever broke a while ago," she sighed, feeling as if everything was back to normal. "You take your shower and I'll change the sheets. See you soon."

They each performed their tasks more at peace with themselves and eachother. When he returned to the bedroom, she was already asleep on her side of the bed under the fresh sheets. It had been a long time since he felt so unworthy and deeply touched. She had spent the entire day getting him better and he had made the day much more difficult than necessary. Why had he been so insufferable to her? This wasn't the first time he felt unworthy to call her his own. She was a much better person than he could ever hope to be. And she didn't deserve someone like him that challenged her nerves and tested her unfailing kindness.

The guilty man turned off the lights and climbed under the cool refreshing sheets. Her searched for her body in the dark and wasn't surprised to find her back still towards him. After pushing he away all day, he wanted nothing more than to be as close to her as possible. He slid across the bed until he became a shell against her. Her body adjusted to the sudden change but didn't fight against it. Moving his face into her flowing hair, Sherlock took a deep thankful breath.

"I can't fathom why you stay and how you do so contently. I'm the most rude and selfish soul in all of London- have been for decades." He paused, chewing on his lip for a few moments. "But I'm trying to change. Believe me, I'm trying." Wrapping his arms around her and gently pulling her closer to his chest he whispered, "I want to be a better man for you. I was fine with myself until you. And now, all I want is to be the one you deserve. It'll take a while but you are more than worth it." Another brief pause. "You deserve so much better, precious Stephanie. My angel."

Without another word, only fading silent thoughts, he fell asleep holding the only woman he knew he could ever love.

**Thursday-**

Steph woke up to an empty quiet room. Looking over at the clock, she growled at the sight of 9:15 showing on the clock. Sherlock had turned off her phone alarm, his way of telling her to sleep in. He and John were already out on the day's case no doubt. That could only mean he was feeling much better, apparently over the twenty-four hour flu he had suffered through. Steph picked up her mobile to find a new text message- a video from her absent boyfriend.

"Good morning. Feeling much better today and will be out until around six. Take the day to relax and do something for yourself. Pop out for a while but be safe." He paused then her favorite of his smiles brightened up the screen. "And Stephanie… I love you." Another few seconds of a silent stare then the video went off.

Her heart raced and she found herself unable to speak or think of anything except him. Sherlock wasn't one for romantic gestures but it was obvious to her that he was still apologizing for yesterday. Video messages from him were few but on the rare occasion she received on, they were more than sweet. After a happy giddy yawn, she put on her jeans and a sloppy fitting shirt.

Before continuing her morning routine, she made her way to the kitchen. Her eyes scanned the livingroom for signs of where the boys would be or what they were doing. A newspaper was open to a murder involving the TowerBridge and a missing worker from St. Paul's. _Oh good, he loves working on these_, she thought with a smile. Steph took another few steps before she froze with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.

On the kitchen table was a posh glass vase of a dozen red roses and baby's breath. The sight was absolutely beautiful. No one had ever given her the cliché twelve roses and she certainly never expected flowers from Sherlock. It was so unlike him, yet he was changing more and more each passing day. After his horrid displays yesterday, she began to wonder how much was because of his being ill and how much was his own fear of changing so rapidly. The delicate hand written note card gave her all the answer she needed.

_You deserve far better than I am capable of. But with you, I know who I am striving to be._

It was more than another apology. He was completely unaware that she heard every word he whispered the previous night. When he moved his body to fit hers, she almost let him know that she was awake. Then he spoke the words that nearly brought her to tears. He was often difficult and undeniably set in most of his ways. But she loved him the way he was. She saw no need for him to change for her and planned to tell him in her own special way later in the night.

With a large lover's grin, she sighed, "I love you too."

Steph made a quick breakfast and threw her first bit of tea in a thermos to go. She stopped by her aunt's and they began their day in London. They did some shopping, saw a few tourist sites Sherlock had neglected on their day out, and returned to Speedy's for lunch. The two watched 's afternoon telly shows and they each picked up around 221 A and B until supper time. Sherlock texted at half past five requesting Stephanie to pick out something nice to wear and left and address and a time, suddenly changing her meal plans.

"That's odd," she mused.

"What is dear?" the dear old lady asked from her half cleaned kitchen.

"Sherlock. I think he's attempting a date night." The curious landlady came closer to her niece with a look of shock plastered to her face.

"Oh, my. Sherlock doesn't do the whole dating thing. Did the two of you…?"

"He had the flu yesterday and was nearly impossible to take care of."

"I tried that _once_. He was so hateful and rude!" The elder got angry simply thinking about the days she spent playing nurse to the ill monster.

"Yes, well, he spared no harsh words yesterday and fought me on everything. But at the end of the night, he felt exceptionally guilty." Her frustrated tone turned sentimental as a blush crept up her cheeks. "He left me roses and a message this morning."

"He what? Sherlock? Sending roses? I'll have to see those," cried in awe.

She suddenly became very pleased with the two being together. She often wanted them to end it and then get married all in a five minute period of time. Mixed feelings were still present but not even she could deny the daily changes between them that made her believe in genuine love.

"Think I should meet him?"

"If Sherlock is trying to be a gentleman and a proper boyfriend, I think it'd be best to give it a chance. He might just surprise us both!"

Stephanie was ready and in a cab when her phone buzzed. Another text sighed -SH.

-Corner booth on top left.

She arrived to the posh restaurant she had never seen before and entered the lobby, turning every bloke's head as she walked past. A young man welcomed her and asked if she had reservations, doing his very best not to scan her beautiful body from her perfect up-do to her diamond studded black heels. Took great pride in announcing that her boyfriend was already seated waiting for her. The brief look of the lad's jealously only added to her confidence. She couldn't help feeling uncomfortable in her own skin in the tight low cut, short black dress. It looked fantastic but when she looked in the mirror before leaving the flat, she hardly recognized the celebrity-like woman staring back at her.

More heads turned and stunned whispers followed her to the back of the large dimly lit room. Part of her wanted to turn around or find the loo. Yet all confidence was restored when her searching eyes met his. The look of pure pride and bliss on his face was more than worth the time she spent getting ready. He swallowed hard at the sight of her and nearly stumbled to his feet when pulling out her chair. His calm demeanor returned as she took the final steps towards him.

With a cheeky grin and mischievous sparkle in his light eyes, he rumbled in his low baritone, " , do you realize that almost every eye is on you at this precise moment?"

"Yes, Mr. Holmes," she melodically replied with her own enchanted smirk, her eyes locked onto his. "And are you aware that the only eyes I care about are yours?"

He gave a low chuckle as his features filled with admiration for his fiery beauty.

They ordered and chatted until their salads came, still aware of the many eyes glancing their way. He was absolutely charming and made her laugh they way she had seen in old films. Never had she dreamt of actually being one of _those_ girls, the luckiest girl in the room. She asked about the case and he gave all the information he could while being in public. He asked about the roses and she thanked him with a blush that drove him mad, his need for her growing rapidly. Their main courses were presented with the wine he ordered and they began their first fancy meal together.

As their light conversation died down, their plates were nearly empty, and the wine began to make them buzz, Sherlock's body language changed. She noticed the moment his soft loving stare flickered with desire for her. Taking another sip of wine, she faked clearing her throat then finally met his intense gaze.

"Something on your mind, love?" the woman asked as if she had caught him staring into space, not directly into her.

Her green eyes and the shadowed make-up around them made her mysterious to those who stole glances her way. The lush red painted lips made her appear far older than he knew her to be, she pass for someone of proper age for him to be dating tonight. Her fearless laughter during the meal had reminded Sherlock of his mother at the parties she used to attend- the ones he was drug to as a child. In a single word, StephanieThomas was stunning.

But the onlookers could never imagine the even more beautiful sights he had witnessed all of the previous day. Sherlock would always remember the sweet worry on her face when he awoke, as if her purpose in life was to aid him back to health. Her red strands of hair up in the messy bun glistened in the sunlight from the window when she entered the room with food and medical supplies. The woman from yesterday wasn't confident because of diamonds in her ears or flawless make-up but was confident in knowing that his harsh words or actions weren't going to break her strong spirit. The way her Saturday clothes hung from her body, making her curves mysterious to him, had given him even more of a thrill than the stylish dress that now clung to her frame. The woman everyone was staring at was only a small part of StephanieThomas, and not a part that was revealed often.

They had been together for weeks yet there was so much of her that was still new to him, still being learned. After staring and thinking for what must have been a full fifty seconds, Sherlock broke their stare for the first time and glanced at the front door then back at her.

"Are you finished?"

"Yes," she answered in the same distant voice he used- but it wasn't distant at all. In fact, it was more focused and intent than any other bit of conversation from the night.

Sherlock pulled out money for the tab, already working out the added tip and left the bills and coins on the table.

"Let's get out of here," he announced more than suggested. While pulling her chair out as she stood, he moved in close and whispered into her ear, "I need to ravish you."

The few soft words sent a violent chill through her body. When their eyes met again, she only nodded. They walked out of the restaurant then a cab was hailed. Sherlock gave their home address calmly before the car began the ten minute drive. As soon as the tires began to roll, his lips pressed against her neck just below her ear. Steph wanted to release an encouraging moan but didn't for the driver's sake. When their lips met, neither could deny the passion that had been building since last night.

Baker Street was only a few blocks away when her cell rang.

"Ignore it," Sherlock pleaded.

Steph pulled the device from her purse then stole a look at the screen.

"It's Molly," she declared with half a grin. "She wouldn't be calling this late if it wasn't important."

There was a brief pause before he grumbled, "Very well."

"Molly?" The familiar voice was crying on the other end of the line. "What's wrong?... Yes… Oh. I see. That is horrid… No, it's quite alright… I'll be there as soon as I can, dear. Just stay there and keep calm. Anything I can bring for you?... What kind?... Toffee it is… See you soon."

His look of disbelief asked all the questions rattling around in his head much quicker than could be voiced.

"Just caught her new boyfriend with another woman. The third party was wearing a ring and the bloke didn't even try to deny anything. Miserable sod," Steph sighed.

"And she wants ice cream?" He asked with a crinkled face of displeasure. "Of all things why ice cream? Is it going to change the situation in any way? Of course not! So why-"

"Because she's a woman who eases her heartache with a bit of sugar. Very typical for my sex- you know that. I don't quite understand it either but I know for some it works. A bit of sweets and a talk with a mate, usually works."

"And you know this because?" His left brow was raised, challenging her.

"I live in a university dorm, remember? I can't explain most of the things I know about the typical female mind but I know it all the same."

"And what about… us?" The handsome man in a tux, just for her, was more curious than upset.

"I have a new friend who needs me tonight."

Another brief pause as they turned onto Baker Street.

"Very well then. To the grocery shop you go. There's only one open in a reasonable distance."

"I know. Thank you." The cab stopped then Sherlock immediately opened the door. Before he could close it, she added, "Oh, and we will continue that little chat."

The little wink she gave him nearly drove him mad. He had to fight the strong urge to take her into her arms and carry her upstairs against her will and newfound sentiment.

"Take care of her," he asked before closing the door.

Steph gave him a quick smile as a reply. She stopped by the store to pick up the sugary dairy elixir. Molly Hooper had never been so glad to hear someone knock on her door so late. The two immediately embraced as Molly's tears became too strong to hold back. At first they sat on her couch, Hooper partaking of the sweets, and Steph only listened. The younger kept silent, not sharing the obvious facts of the matter; Molly didn't need scolding or someone telling her how tragically naive she was. When the extremely long story and all of its details had been accounted for, Molly finally asked for the logical advice she knew Stephanie could offer.

The news was broken sweetly and with great care. Molly listened as the younger offered simple truths and suggestions that were more than intelligent. When Molly finally found peace, it was nearing two in the morning. They hugged as if they had been old mates. Molly thanked her many times then asked about their common thread. Giving as few details as possible, Steph only said that he was still Sherlock through and through then assured that they were both entirely happy with eachother. Molly wished her the best and forced her out the door to get some rest.

When Stephanie slipped into the bedroom, she found him sleeping in the curled up ball he had slept in every night before she entered his life. She was ready for bed in no time at all and crawled under the covers with a little grin. As he had done to her last night, she molded her body against his with her head resting against his upper back. The room was silent and all was well. The night hadn't turned out as she had planned but the alternative was still favorable. Perhaps Molly Hooper would be the London friend she always wanted.


	3. The First Week (Part 3)

**Friday-**

Stephanie had woken up to a single good-bye kiss and those three precious words before Sherlock and John dashed off to save London. She couldn't drag herself from their bed until about nine, the extra sleep needed from the late night out. A warm thoughtful shower was followed by a quick breakfast. The second she was entirely ready to take on the day the girl made her way downstairs to ask if her aunt needed anything. Mrs. Hudson thanked her niece after declining the offer, telling the girl to return as quickly and safely as possible.

It was an unusually beautiful summer day in the capital city with tourists at every corner and a special something in the atmosphere. First she took a long walk through Camden Market, just to keep her observation skills sharp. She witnessed four items nicked, six couples break it off, two individual blokes having a special smoke, three drug deals, and one couple in a back alley getting it on without care. Then she took the tube to St. Paul's to her favorite sweets shop, grabbing some black liquorish for her aunt. And lastly, she grabbed some groceries- were they ever not out of milk?

The flat was just as she had left it so the boys hadn't returned since this morning. Steph delivered the sweets to her surprised aunt and they chin wagged for a cheery ten minutes. The girl lied about getting an early start on dinner then disappeared back up to her home.

Home.

That's what 221B Baker Street had become to her. Never before had she been in one place for very long and actually found comfort there. Her parents' house was far from relaxing and a private hour to herself was unheard of. The school dorms were large enough to suit her physical living needs but always left her feeling lonely after the excitement of the first weeks of class. While visiting what few friends she had, she felt a burden and never found total peace in the unfamiliar rooms. But here, with a brilliant mad man and a former army doctor, she found the peace of spirit and mind she had always longed for. Even after being kidnapped, twice, she had wanted to process both events among the odd wall paper and constant activity the London flat provided.

It was about time for the boys to get home when her phone buzzed on the armrest of Sherlock's chair. She had been reading there for the last two hours. Still contemplating the book, she tapped the screen until her newest message filled the screen.

-Shouldn't be very late but please wait up. -SH

A quick smile played on her lips before she sighed and typed back.

-Take your time. -ST

Hamlet was just finished when her stomach began to growl. She fixed a quick batch of chips before flipping through telly channels. As usual, nothing was on worthy of her full attention. The girl soon found herself overly bored. Just before she made it out of the living room to the bed, she heard them come in downstairs.

"That… was unbelievable," John laughed out of breath.

"Yes, quite amusing," her seemingly happy boyfriend agreed.

They practically ran up the stairs and barged into the room as if in celebration.

"Sounds like a victory," she beamed, already in a tank top and a pair of Sherlock's soft sleep pants.

"A victory indeed! It was incredible, Stephanie! You should have seen it. There wasn't a single lead until three hours into the case then they all came piling in. And Sherlock-"

"I merely noticed a pattern and went with my first instincts," he cut in, walking towards the smiling beauty.

"Hello, lover," she whispered as John continued.

"Missed you last night," he smirked, their foreheads now touching.

"Are you listening, Miss Tell-Me-Every-Last-Detail?"

The couple released small chuckles and locked eyes before she answered, "Yes, John. The criminals got messy and didn't keep up with their records and receipts."

"The funny thing was that all five of them were making the same mistakes. Must have been trained by the same person or with the same poor tactics."

"The later," the two geniuses said in unison, still staring with foreheads pressed together.

"Oh, nevermind. The pair of you haven't seen eachother in almost twenty-four hours. No use," he sighed, a bit jealous but genuinely happy for them. "See you both in the morning," he chuckled before growing stern. "And if anything goes on, please, _please_… try to keep it down. Some of us actually sleep at night."

"Good night, John," Steph blushed, finally taking her eyes off her boyfriend long enough to watch the good doctor disappear upstairs. "He's almost cute when he tries to be cross with us," she noted in a melodic way that grabbed every last thread of his attention. His mind raced back to the recent night he first heard her sing.

"Ready to retire for the night?" There was something too thoughtful in his question- not suggestive but like he was planning something.

"If you are."

Stephanie had lit a few candles and placed them around the room while Sherlock was brushing his teeth. He returned to the calming atmosphere and sight of her mostly naked body sprawled out on top of the duvet.

"Those aren't the undergarments you were wearing last night," he stated instead of asked in the doorway, already knowing the answer.

"Yeah, sorry about that. You missed out. I was quite sexy underneath that little black number," she said in that flirty confident tone followed by a quick wink. Was she trying to keep Watson up all night?

Sherlock chuckled at her remark and plopped beside her on the blankets. The two were finally laying side by side staring at one another in the dancing candle light. She was just glad he was home while he was preparing himself for the speech he had silently been practicing all day.

"Something has been brought to my attention in the last week."

"Well, I picked up some milk today, if that's what you're getting at," she playfully teased, nudging his shoulder with hers.

He loved her like this- carefree, a bit reckless, and completely open to him. This was the woman no one else knew. Only in times like this was her guard completely down and all masks thrown aside. She had his heart and soul in those little hands that were being shoved into the mass of red long curls. He wanted her at that moment but had to restrain. If he didn't get it out tonight, he'd lose his nerve.

"I thought I was completely in love with you the first night we had sex." His first statement grabbed her full attention, making her wonder where he was going. "But then this last week, you've made me fall even harder."

"How? This week has been mad," she giggled with a deep blush, the compliment more than welcomed yet not understood. She had been a wreck all week long.

"I realized something last night while you were helping our emotional MollyHooper." Her eyes asked for her. "I know nothing about you. I know you-the precise ways you work and think-but I don't know your history or what sort of past you've come from. After viewing endless photographs with your aunt, I know more about her than I do you."

She pondered this a few seconds then appeared as if she had made up her mind about something.

"There's a few things I want to know about you as well. We shouldn't go rushing into this because we are both rubbish at this but I suggest we could play five questions. Any question must be answered with some details. The same question can be returned to the opposite party but will not count as another question. Understand?"

He couldn't help a deep throaty chuckle at her being so take-charge. Leave it to Steph to turn something uncomfortable into some sort of intellectual game.

Sherlock propped himself up on his elbow with a sigh, "You first then."

Bravely, she stepped onto private territory.

"I can't work out what exactly happened to your parents. It was some sort of accident, I worked that much out. You probably wouldn't be very close but would be in some contact with them if they were living. From what you've told me, neither were the suicidal type. And you would have been full of hate and revenge had they been murdered."

"Oh, my clever girl," he sighed. His face darkened with shadows of the past yet his eyes were still soft and full of nothing but love towards her. He began after another deep breath. "Have you ever heard of the King's Cross fire?" Steph shook her head in reply. "It was the first time a fire of that size happened underground at a tube station. They say some bugger wanted a smoke and dropped his lit match into the escalator. A trench effect began and thirty-one lives were taken from either toxic fumes or the fire itself."

"My God," she breathed in shock. "When was this?"

"November the eighteenth, 1987," he nearly whispered, his eyes now staring blankly ahead.

"That would have made you… You were only twelve." Hear heart was suddenly aching for the couple she never knew, the parents he barely knew.

Returning his focus he continued, "I spent the next few years living in the intolerable flat belonging to my brother. He was rarely there, climbing the social ladder and getting closer to achieving his present employment. I had always been highly intelligent for my age and had skipped a few grades early on. School wasn't enough to keep my brain satisfied and being cooped up at his place nearly drove me mad."

"Then you began using your intelligence for something else," she deduced.

Sherlock gave a quick smile before beginning the brief tale he had told John all those years ago. "There was a young boy who mysteriously drowned in a pool. I had just turned twelve so the police wouldn't bother with me. But I knew something was wrong. Expert swimmers don't simply drown. Moriarty used that case to get my attention when we were first acquainted," the detective recalled. A brief pause was given before he concluded, "I was young and needed something to fill my time with before college. Those were my first years of detective work. The police were asking for my assistance when I was just twenty. Lestrade found me much later."

"I would have never guessed," Stephanie mused.

"And what of you? Clearly an only child raised with loving parents, but they didn't understand you. You've always been a hard worker and scholarships and untaken opportunities were all but thrown at you. But what else?"

Her face darkened as his had done before a heavy sigh, "First of all, I'm not exactly an only child." If she didn't have his full attention before, she did now. "My mother lost her first child, three weeks after giving birth. The poor thing was hospitalized its entire life and just wasn't old enough to fight. They were heartbroken for the longest time and then, four years later, they began planning for my arrival. They moved to start their new life near Northampton. Mother was kind, loving, but usually sad when I was smaller. I was alone most of the time and learned to be a quick learner. Same as you, I was always above my class and paid for it in secondary school- the youngest there. I always felt the unnecessary burden of living two lives, one for me and one for Matty. He would have been smart but perhaps I took the personal challenge too far."

She paused to reflect and gather her words. "I just wanted them to be happy, to make them proud enough for the both of us. But they didn't seem to really nurture me until it was too late. Graduated top of my class at sixteen. They suddenly realized something was wrong with me, lack of social skills and normal emotion. They had always brushed it off as being studious until then. Mother didn't want me going to college until I was eighteen so I joined the work force, getting fired multiple times for pointing out faults in systems that had been used for ages. Finally started uni and you know the rest. I'm certain my experience mirrors your own."

"I should hope not," he grumbled, his expression lightening up a bit. "So now your parents wish to be more involved- to make up for lost time?"

"Something of the sort. It took mother half my life to get over losing Mathew. Father accepted me but was always afraid to get closer to me than mother was willing to- the most bonding we ever did was watch _Doctor Who_ together on Saturdays. A strange childhood, I suppose. Then again, I would have simply ran away had it come down to living with someone like Mycroft."

"Alright," he was silent but a smirk grew on his lips- the atmosphere suddenly lighter. "When was it for you?"

"When was what?"

"Oh, don't play coy, little Cassidy," he sweetly groaned in fake disappointment. There was a romantic sparkle in his eyes.

"When was the moment you became more than overly clever, annoying, arrogant, and slightly charming?" His growing smirk was answer enough. "The first time I was kidnapped. Our eyes locked and you made a promise," she bashfully recalled with reddening cheeks.

"We shared that first silent conversation and I felt as if my heart had simply grown in my chest only to shatter."

"So it was then for you as well?" Steph asked with calm but giddy excitement. Sherlock nodded, mirroring her blissfully bewilderment. "I had never wanted to be someone's heroine until that buffoon grabbed me," she giggled, embarrassed at her silly confession.

"I had never wanted a heroine until he drug you out of sight."

She sweetly kissed his cheek, not lingering long. Her body language suggested that the conversation was coming to a close.

"Could we continue in the morning?"

"Sounds agreeable," he answered with an unexpected yawn.

After they were snuggled together with the lights off she sighed, "It's nice to be talking like this. I'm not one for heart-to-hearts but getting to know these parts of you may be of some use later on."

"If not, it's still nice getting to know eachother in a way that is foreign to us both."

"Agreed," she smiled. He felt her body stiffen beneath his touch before she purred, "And it's nice to know the background story of the one I'm about to shag without mercy."

She seductively rolled atop him before he quietly moaned, "Are we about to finish that conversation from after our dinner date?" Instead of answering with words, Steph startled him then began unbuttoning his shirt- a trail of kisses being left down his chest. "Oh, I missed you last night," he managed before taking control.


	4. Surprise Call

The day had been mostly quiet. Instead of joining the boys on their latest case-the disappearance of a duchess' secret ruby pendant-she decided to keep her aunt company for the morning. All in all, she was in a pleasant mood. And then it finally happened- it had only been a matter of time. Steph sighed a moan of deepest displeasure when she saw who was calling.

"You aren't keeping up to your end of our little bargain," the voice crossly accused before Steph had the chance to utter a greeting.

"If you're calling that must mean you know something and if you know something then you were obviously kept in the loop. What does it matter if I wasn't the one who filled you in? And, furthermore, if you know what happened, then you know that I've been a bit too busy to phone. That and perhaps I simply haven't wanted to discuss the matter," she argued in defense, using the sound reasoning skills that would get her out of trouble.

"But Stephanie," the other voice gasped. "You could have at least told me you had a new boyfriend!"

Mary Morstan was Stephanie's favorite cousin. While she was a few years older than Steph, the two had grown up more like close sisters than first cousins. Of the three older sisters, Stephanie and Mary's mothers had been the closer more well behaved, Mrs. Hudson the more bold black sheep of the sisterhood. Mary was kind and very beautiful, blonde with the same ivory skin that ran in the family.

The motherly way she treated even her most recent acquaintances earned her a position as governess to a posh family in Brighton. This always fascinated Stephanie because Mary had never been properly nurtured herself, her mother dying soon after her birth and her father a military man rarely home. Miss Morstan's only living family in England, besides her mostly absentee father, were Mrs. Hudson and Stephanie's parents. Stephanie going to Oxford brought them apart but the two kept in close contact. In many ways, Mary was Stephanie's Watson- the only one her age who could manage and almost understand the feisty redhead.

"Well, I have a boyfriend," Steph nearly giggled, the words still strange on her lips.

"A real relationship?"

"Much to your pleasure, I'm sure."

"Oh, Steph! I've been anticipating this for months! Aunt Hudson said he was one of her tenants? The detective?"

"Well, sort of." She wondered if details were best kept as secrets. Then again, there was a certain thrill that came with telling someone. "Remember the London detective that everyone was going on about?"

"The barmy bloke that jumped off the roof?" Steph rolled her eyes.

"Not exactly, but yes."

"Something Homes? What about 'im?"

"His name was Sherlock Holmes. And he didn't die." She heard the dramatic gasp on the other end of the line. "Auntie didn't tell us a lot but it was to protect him. He's practically a son to her. But I popped by for a visit while mum and dad were in America, we met, and the whole thing sort of-"

"Was it love at first sight? I love a good love at first sight story."

The door downstairs opened, accompanied by familiar footsteps.

"More like loath at first glance," the now lovesick girl smirked. How was that only three weeks ago?

"Isn't he a bit older?"

"Not by much. Besides, you know I can't date anyone my own age. It always ends bad."

"Well, younger girls with older men often end bad as well. If the two of you start having problems don't hesitate to phone. I'm here for you no matter what."

Sherlock walked through the door in time to hear her gently groan, "I doubt it will come to that but you'll be my first call. It may be three months after the matter but-"

"You never know! Remember what happened when you didn't call after you and-what was his name?-had your rows? I could have talked you into leaving that loony weeks before you did if you had called."

"Probably, Mary. Well, I need to go. But we'll talk again soon, yeah?"

"And you'll fill me in, every solitary detail," the bubbly blonde threatened.

"Fine. Good-bye."

Their eyes met for the first time that day. He had left her sleeping this morning, her hair draped around her shoulders and bangs scattered across her forehead. Even now, sitting in his chair with her legs tucked beneath her chin, she was stunning.

"Someone is terribly curious," he smirked before entering the kitchen.

"That was Mary," Steph grinned with a light chuckle.

"Mary? You've never spoken of any friends," he inquired while gathering tea cups and sugar.

"I don't have friends," she began with a thoughtful sigh. "Only Mary. And she's family at that."

"Cousin?"

"As you learned a few days ago, your Mrs. Hudson has two sisters. They had their children early in life and she went off adventuring."

"The reason your mother dislikes your taking after your aunt more than her. I gathered from our family photograph time," he teased with only a bit of sarcasm.

"Precisely," she mumbled. Then her face lit up ever so mischievously. Sherlock's full attention fell on her as she seductively pranced from his chair to just in front of him. The girl began straightening the lapels of his dress jacket with mock innocence and continued, "My poor mother probably thinks I'm going to run off with some older eccentric bloke who will get me into all sorts of trouble just like my uncle did Auntie Hudson." Her eyes lifted to meet his as a staged epiphany filled her expression. "Oh wait!"

Sherlock couldn't help an amused chuckle as his flirtatious redhead planted kisses up his neck and jaw line. His mind had just begun to wander in the same direction as hers when the water roared to life, bubbling and steaming inside the plastic.

"The kettle," he whispered between calm but deep breaths.

"It can wait," she breathed against his neck.

"I can't stay long."

"Then skip the tea," she sweetly argued with a purr.

"The door downstairs. It'll be John," he stated, doing his very best to hide the growing desire in his still surprisingly steady voice.

"Bollocks," the beauty growled, lowering herself from tip-toes and removing her grazing hands.

Their bodies had been separated for only moments when John happily strode into the room. Immediately, he recognized what was going on.

Growing sheepish with a slight blush, he shyly asked, "The two of you were just in a moment weren't you?" The lovers each shrugged and looked as if they hadn't the slightest idea what the good doctor was going on about. "No, I know the two of you were just in the middle of an intense snogging session, or whispering sweet _deductions_ in eachother's ears, or something disgusting," he groaned, getting a third tea cup.

"Actually, we just had a quick afternoon shag," Sherlock flatly stated as fact, standing tall with his hands behind his back.

John's eyes had just enough time to meet his emotionless flat mate's before Stephanie added, "On the kitchen table."

She had used the same stony tone her boyfriend had used without a trace of emotion on either face. Looking at her then back at him, John thought about calling their bluff. Then again, with these two, anything was possible.

"You're joking," he asked with high hopes, eying the table they were about to drink on.

"We're joking," Steph confirmed with only a small smirk of sentiment.

"Oh, the pair of you," John sighed.

He hated when they did things like this. It wasn't often but he knew full well that those two, if the urge struck them, would do every last action they had denied in the past- sex on the kitchen table one of their less crude claims.

"Take a joke," Sherlock grinned. He never tired of John's priceless reactions. His eyes met with Stephanie's then he gave her an adoring wink.

She was passing out afternoon tea when her eyes suddenly grew wide with joy. The two men could only wait for her seemingly brilliant thought to be voiced.

"Sherlock!"

"No," he answered as if she had been a child asking for something at a shop. Taking a sip of tea, his eyes followed her around the kitchen table.

"It would be fantastic!" she excitedly argued, looking at John with an odd expression when she handed him his cup.

"Bad idea," the boyfriend glared over his best friend's shoulder.

"Bad idea? W-what's a bad idea?" a confused John stuttered.

"It would be a most agreeable match."

"I'm saving you the trouble and hours of planning by telling you, my _dearest_ Cassidy, the answer is no."

Defeated, she brought a third cup to the table and sat across from Sherlock. Staring over the rim of her cup, she knew the issue couldn't be pressed much further. At least not today. Her stubborn Mr. Holmes' feet had been firmly planted into the symbolic sands of decision. Perhaps she could get a shovel and start digging him out another day.

"I'm sorry," John asked more than said. "Exactly what are you two bickering about?" The suspense was maddening.

The lovers were always on the same page and often used such minimal spoken statements that Watson often felt left out. Even as intelligent as he was, he was more than aware that he was no match for the power couple. Maybe one day, in his cloudy unpredictable future, he would be one half of such a perfect union. One day.


	5. Questions

**Between my other story and classes, I haven't been updating this one so much. Sorry! Promise to do better in the future. To make it up to you lovely people, here is not one but two chapters. Please review and send me suggestions/requests. Love hearing from you guys! Hope all is going well! Cheers**

* * *

"Worst day of your life," he suddenly asked.

Sherlock had asked Steph to accompany him while he gathered information on his present case. Happily, she accepted. They were now at the British Library, searching the entire building for a secret book that had never been cataloged- a challenge to say the least. He had been silent for the last ten minutes, deep in thought while moving from room to room. His sudden question had broken Stephanie's own silent thoughts.

"Pardon?"

"What was the worst day of your life?"

The young woman thought for a moment, never pausing from her part of the search.

"The worst day of my life happened before I was born," she answered with a deep sigh.

He knew what she was referring to, the death of her brother, but ignored the subject entirely.

"Yes, without the drama please. And I did say of your life, meaning since you've been born. That conversation is for another time."

He loved her because she wasn't the typical dramatic female, yet every great once and a while even she had her moments. Perhaps it was simply part of the female gene that he would never understand. Even the greatest male minds couldn't understand women- at least not the real men.

"First day of secondary school," she confessed. Their eyes met long enough for her to know he wished for her to continue. "I was terrified. I was the youngest to attend and everyone was already talking about me before I set foot into the building. Everyone was chatting up friends they hadn't seen all summer and I didn't know a soul. It was mum and dad's idea to move me from one district to another. Suppose they thought I'd make friends better in a private institution. Went into what I thought was my first period classroom. By the time I realized it was the wrong room, I was too embarrassed to leave."

"First I was thankful that it was chemistry- senior level but I didn't mind. The teacher gave out one of those inquiry exams, the ones that weren't worth points but served as a guide to what the students already knew. Everyone was either restless or already tired. There was one exam that came close to an A, a perfect score to be exact." She paused, the memory still burning. "My first class sealed my lonely fate. That was the day I was deemed 'freak'." Another brief silence. "Knew every question on the bloody entrance exam. If only I'd been smart enough to get a few wrong. Maybe I would have had a chance."

His eyes immediately abandoned the books to glance at her.

"I'm familiar with the pet name myself," he replied with an amused tone she didn't understand.

A few seconds passed before her tone brightened to ask, "And you? Other than the day your parents died, of course."

"The day I died," he sighed with remorse.

For the first time since their arrival, Stephanie abandoned their task. She was hesitant at first then became brave. The girl took a step closer to her still slightly mysterious boyfriend. Standing right beside him, in a low whisper, she began.

"I know you don't like to talk about it but… what happened that day? I didn't want to push the issue… until now."

Steph was unsure he'd even answer but was surprised when he ordered, "Follow me."

Without another word she followed him out of the room, down a few halls, then past a "do not enter" sign until they reached a door with a scanning lock. Instead of stating the obvious, they can't get through, Steph watched him produce a card of some sort from his pocket. The red light on the scanner turned green before the heavy door clicked. Both glanced around before entering. Sherlock was pleased to show off for his girlfriend while she found it thrilling simply to be in unauthorized area.

"And to who do we owe this honor?" Sherlock held the card out for her to see. "Ha. Brilliant," she quietly giggled. "Thank you, Mycroft."

They found a room that looked as if it hadn't been used in ages. Sherlock turned on the light to reveal a single wooden table and an old telly cart, the kind that used to be used in school on film days in class. A small private bookcase was beside the door, an employee's personal stash from the looks of it.

"This will do nicely," he sighed while looking around for cameras. The man took a seat on the table then gestured for Steph to sit beside him. Only when she was sitting comfortably beside him did he take a deep breath. "What I am about to say stays in this room. Understand?" She nodded, completely serious and prepared to listen closely.

Sherlock Holmes searched her face. If ever he had been afraid of commitment or feelings, he couldn't remember. Since she had come into his life, he had questioned himself more and more. How had he lived so long without this form of companionship? John had eased the loneliness when he first arrived to Baker Street but this was so much more. More and completely different. He found the other half of his soul in Stephanie. Whatever emptiness or pain that had been there before had been erased the day he found her sitting in his chair- literally waiting for him.

"I don't plan on telling this to anyone ever again," he confessed before taking her hand to plant a wet warm kiss into her palm. The shiver he sent through her body was felt in the brief trembling on her hand, a sensation he rather enjoyed. He kept her hand in his as he spoke.

"Moriarty erased his identity and became Richard Brook, an actor hired by Sherlock Holmes. With this identity, he told everyone that I had paid him to be my greatest enemy. His story was that I had created all the complex cases, one explanation to my abilities to solve them. Months before, he found a way to trick Mycroft into telling him my life story- information that was meaningless at the time. The truths of my life with one lie included was to be my undoing."

"He told them the truth then added that you were a fraud."

"Oh, there were hoops to jump through, mindless riddles, a few strings pulled on his end of things, then finally what he called 'the final problem'. You remember him mentioning it while his prisoner, I assume. Anyways, it was all a high stakes game before it became deadly. When I realized he was having me on, I had the task of quickly creating two plans- one for myself and another for those I… cared for." Sherlock paused at this, the details still holding a certain sting. "It came down to one compromise, the one I had been expecting. Jim was brilliant but I was still at least three steps ahead. If I didn't jump off that bloody roof, everyone I cared for would die at the hands of shooters already placed. Luckily, I realized the proper information with time enough to fake my suicide."

"You knew what was going to happen, down to the smallest details, and asked Molly Hooper for help."

"Yes. Molly was the only one Jim forgot to include on my list of those that mattered. I always trusted Molly but kept her at arm's length. Part of me always knew she held high hopes that one day we… But she was never close to anything I could involve myself in."

"A relationship?" Steph interrupted, eyes a bit more cautious than before.

"Love," he answered in that rare lover's tone. "At least love with a normal person. She helped me and it all went as planned, down to the smallest details. I was even a bit surprised. Someone as mad as Jim is not easy to predict. Anything could have gone wrong."

"But you did it," she grinned adoringly and proud.

"Barely," he noted. "John was dropped off in a cab seconds after Moriarty supposedly shot himself. Saying good-bye to him was…"

"That had to have been next to impossible. You knew what had to be done, the time you would be separated, yet you couldn't even give him a clue to what was going on."

"Oh, I tried giving him clues. Told him it was all fake, a magic trick. Tried to prepare him for what he was about to witness but-" he gave a bitter chuckle as his face darkened even more. "I hadn't planned on it being so difficult. He was standing there staring up at me in pure terror. It was like he knew what was going to happen but didn't realize the reality of it in time. Knowing the pain they would all feel… Knowing the lie I was about to be living… It was…"

"Hell," she answered with teary eyes.

"Hell," the dismal man repeated in agreement. Their eyes finally met again. "Molly was the only one who knew and I'm certain it was the cause of many anxiety attacks she had while I was gone. She aided my stunt and bought my ticket out of London." He paused, quickly remembering everything from that dark day in flashes.

"Even most people's worst day is a picnic in comparison-"

"No,'' he cut her off. "Those were the consequences for the path I chose in life. When one lives their life the way I had, the way I do, hell is to be expected. The ones I care for will always be threatened and watched from evil forces. And the ones I love-"

She ended his speech with a sound kiss. Her hands found his warm neck just as he moaned into the snog. He was first to pull away and looked on the brink of tears when doing so.

"What they did to you… could just be the first of many times."

"I know that," she responded with confidence. "And, Sherlock Holmes, that is my consequence for being the woman in love and loved by you. One I gladly choose every day."

He kissed her forehead before their heads pressed together, their eyes locking in silent understanding.

"Thank you for sharing. I know it was difficult."

"I trust very few people. But when I trust, I do so completely. And when I love, it is genuine."

She pressed her lips to his one last time before standing to her feet.

"We still have a book to find."

"I'm beginning to wonder if we could simply ask around. I always miss obvious solutions."

As he went on and on, Steph walked over to the small bookcase. It was purely out of curiosity. There was next to no chance the desired book was on one of these three short shelves but-

"Found it," she grinned.

Sherlock fell silent and practically ran to her side. Once his eyes skimmed the book's cover and spine, he spun his clever girl around.

"Stephanie Thomas…"

"I know," she winked. "I'm good. You should have let me tag along ages ago."


	6. Safe Place

Stephanie had escaped into their bedroom hours ago and had been in great need of privacy when doing so. The phone conversation with her parents earlier had left her mood rather cynical and had allowed her former introverted self to seep through cracks of the confidence wall she had finally finished only a few semesters ago. She used to retreat to her bedroom all throughout secondary school into the first semesters of university- before her rather destructive relationship lead to bad habits and a bleak view of life. It had been some time since her last wretched day. Even when she had been kidnapped, she knew she was fighting for something; there had been a purpose for the pain. But not today.

Today, her parents had all but blatantly voiced their disappointment in her. Her headphones pushed all other noises out of her already distracted mind, eyes had been closed over an hour, arms were crossed over her ocean like chest, and her body rested lifelessly on his side of their bed. Steph reflected on the words she had heard and said earlier in the day. At first she tried to push the conversation out of her mind, going on with her day as if their chat hadn't bothered her. Their words had never cut so deeply before. Then again, their past arguments had never been about a man she had somehow fallen in love with.

This was ground they had never tread on before. For the first time, she wished she had told them about her brief unhealthy college affair. Perhaps then the present situation would be more favorable. Yet there was still the possibility that her parents would still choose her abusive drug-filled relationship to her present arrangement with a famous high-functioning sociopath who had recently come back from the dead. Said new boyfriend being one of her rebel aunt's tenants didn't help matters.

As The Goo-Goo Doll's song "Iris" (her favorite song in all the world) ended, she suddenly felt a gentle hand over her intertwined fingers.

"Blimey!" She nearly jumped out of her skin. "Didn't even hear you come in," she panted, recovering from fright.

"I didn't think you were in such deep meditation. My apologies," Sherlock replied after her ear buds had been removed.

"Well obviously I was," she hissed.

He was suddenly nervous. This wasn't his girlfriend. This juvenile acting girl had an unnecessary temper, a glare like daggers, and was entirely frigid. He had never been good at handling overly emotional people, even John in his own dramatic moments. Dramatic persons had always been effortless to ignore or brush off, as in Sherlock would simply leave them to obviously needed solitude. He couldn't do that at present. Action had to be taken. But what? And how?

"You need to talk," he finally announced doing his very best to remain calm.

"Stay in the sitting room. You're working on a case and I need the time alone."

He hated doing this to her but it was for her own benefit.

"You haven't said a word to me since your parents called earlier this afternoon. Your usual meal for the day has been forgotten. I figured you had a quiet side resembling the shell I used to crawl into after a trying day but didn't imagine it this dark. Your current choice in music suggests that your emotional processes involve poetic 90's tunes-"

"Don't you dare deduce me right now. The last thing I need is you picking me to pieces. Then again, maybe it's just as well you get your hits in while everyone else does."

"Your parents are not 'everyone else'."

"Because you know _every_ living soul I am in contact with," she bitterly challenged.

"I know that the only opinions that matter are the ones that come from the few you deeply love. And I do know the few parties who fall into that small category."

"Just bloody go away," she barked, laying back down with her back towards him.

He didn't care for the way she rolled her body into that unfamiliar balled up position. She fell silent, not even bothering to retrieve the ear buds and her dramatic 90's music. He couldn't bear to see her this way. As little as he knew about relationships, he knew that no human could bottle up their emotions without unfavorable consequences. It was perfectly clear that she needed to talk out whatever rubbish and lies she had begun to believe earlier in the day. Those people cared for most had the greatest power over their minds- yet another reason he had delayed so long in caring for anyone.

It took all of five seconds for him to decide his course of action. Without warning, he knelt over the bed and scooped her into his arms. Of course she fought him but he held on all the tighter. With her in his hold, he fell onto the bed on his back, holding her tightly to his chest as she punched, kicked, and cursed him. Sherlock remained silent until she finally stilled in his arms, her yelled curses now sobs into his chest. He felt her body collapse into his, her shaking limbs wrapping around him for dear life. His hands smoothed down her hair as she cried against him. Once she was calm enough, he sat up with her.

"Talk to me," he gently whispered into her ear, more tenderness than even he knew he was capable of.

Her shoulders shook a few more times before she deeply inhaled and exhaled.

"They've been making it difficult on me since I decided to stay in London for the summer. Haven't mentioned it before because I had rather hoped they would accept the fact before now. They were just cruel earlier. I'll spare you the details-"

"Don't," he interrupted, taking her red face between his wonderfully cool hands. "I want to know every last detail."

Steph paused, wondering how she had been lucky enough to win over Sherlock Holmes, the man who had proved his heart's existence to her time and time again.

"From the tainted information they have read and collected of you, they don't approve," confessed the still teary eyed girl.

"Already expected that bit," he smirked, knowing their good graces were far off into the future- if ever.

"They want me to return to their world of black and white. That is now impossible since I've become part of your colorful world of London, crime, and… Just the proof of there being someone else with my own odd ways has changed my life. Even if we hadn't become a couple, I still was fascinated by you. Not romantically but because of our minds' shared processes."

"But you haven't told me what exactly has you so worked up," he frowned, eyes still full of question.  
She didn't even want to say the words.

"I'm not giving into their wishes. I'm not leaving London and I'm certainly not leaving you. They've put me in the cliché position of choosing. The very thought of choosing between one's parents and significant other is childish and illogical. We've never been extremely close but they've always honored my decisions."

"They feel I'm holding you back. For all they care, I'm simply a phase that will pass after graduation. A last 'hurrah' if you will."

"That's the basic of the situation," she sniffed before resting her head on his shoulder. "They're upset so I didn't agree to their demands for me to bring you home next week. They need time to calm down and I need time to think, sort everything through rationally.

He pulled her moist face until their eyes were locked, a breath away. Before speaking, he placed a kiss on her forehead.

"I'll do whatever you need me to. Anything. Whatever it is, just tell me. We will get through this. They'll come around and if they don't-"

"You should be working on your case. Isn't tomorrow your personal deadline?"

"I didn't tell you that," he smirked, pleased at her correct deductions.

"I've picked up on a few patterns over the last several weeks," she admitted with a small laugh, the light in her eyes only embers compared to the beautiful green blaze he was accustomed to.

"This is far more important," he breathed while pulling her to his chest.

"But-"

"Don't speak. Just relax, my love."

She did as he ordered, letting her body melt into his. Her arms were around his neck as her legs slid down his sides. There was something so intimate about their present state, her straddling his tall lanky body. After several silent moments, his hands began to run up and down her back, massaging and feathering his way over her spine until she was all but purring.

Neither knew exactly how much time passed before she rolled over to his side. Her silent request for him to continue holding her was answered by his body forming a shell against hers. She slid her hand into his when his arm crossed her chest. Her head rested on his other arm, the most perfect pillow she had ever slept on. They had just gotten comfortable when Sherlock suddenly slid away from her.

"I'll be right back," he promised before she could protest.

The living room lamps were turned off. He made a glass of water in the kitchen. His footsteps became louder from the hall then he entered the room. The bedroom light was turned off as well, the entire flat now dark and silent.

"Drink this."

"I don't want-"

"You've been crying. Don't want a sore throat tomorrow." She took the glass and a long sip knowing he was right. "Night clothes?" He didn't see her but knew she had nodded in agreement. They found their clothes in a single pile on the floor at the foot of the bed. The dim streetlights of London gave enough light for them to complete the task without trouble.

Within the next minute, they had returned to their previous spooning position. He hadn't expected her to speak but she surprised him.

"I love you," she reminded him in the dark.

He slowly turned her body to face his and kissed her mouth a bit harder than intended. She moaned into the passionate caresses of his lips against hers. Hands began to roam eachother's bodies as legs tangled. Instead of continuing, Steph dug her head into his chest. They caught their breath and became settled deeper into the mattress.

"You're more than clever enough to find a reasonable solution. I don't believe they genuinely meant the ultimatum they gave you. Their reaction to this union probably resembles your aunt's more than we believe. Give it time. You may have to be the one who calls them but this conflict will resolve one way or another."

"I know," she sighed, now completely calm against his body. "I don't care what they think. We're bloody adults. And I'm not missing out on this, on you, just because mummy and father don't understand what exactly this is. What we have I mean." She paused for a while in thought. "They just need to see us together." Another pause. "Maybe Christmas- a family occasion you can make more entertaining."

He laughed into her hair then kissed the top of her head.

"Good night, Cassidy."

"See you in the morning, Mr. Holmes."

Another few minutes passed before the small voice returned.

"Sherlock?"

"Hm?"

"Are you hungry?"

Another throaty chuckle filled the room. He wasn't but knew that she was more than likely starved.

"To the kitchen we go," he sighed, already untangling himself from her.

They put on their house coats and made their way to the kitchen. Some decaf tea and whatever they could find in the fridge would be delightful.


	7. Jealously and Messy Hair

Sherlock arrived home more agitated than usual. Stephanie picked up on this very quickly. The man had stormed in with a growl then stripped down to his shirt and trousers- coat, scarf, shoes, and socks scattered around the sitting room. Allowing him his space, she decided to hide in the kitchen until he cooled off a bit. The load of dishes by the sink was all the excuse she needed to be in the next room as he thought or talked out his frustrations in solitude. She heard him pace about the room for several minutes until he marched into the kitchen, never stopping his pacing.  
"I simply do not understand those of your gender," he nearly barked. It was as if they had been in a heated argument. Typical Sherlock, starting the conversation at the middle.  
"If you are referring to females in general, I'm practically as lost as you are. It's a shame that my gender seems to be repelled by logic and all fascinating matters not concerning floods of emotion."  
"Yes," he sighed in a smug manner. She hadn't quite understood his meaning, yet her comment had merely scratched the surface of his thought process.  
"Anything specific?" she asked- only a few plates and tea cups remaining.  
The detective paused, weighing the consequences of letting his new girlfriend too close to this part of his work. Mycroft used to tease him about never mixing women with work- his way of noticing his brother's desert of a love life.  
"A former client has returned and I'm not looking forward to her being around," he confessed using as few details as possible.  
"Well, returning clients are good, aren't they?"  
"Last time I dealt with this one, she wanted me to be more than the detective working on her ridiculous case." He couldn't help rolling his eyes at the memory.  
"How do you mean?" Was he saying what she thought he was saying? She certainly hoped not.

"She wanted me to do more than work on her case," he rephrased, hoping she would understand without further explanation.

"So you've had offers to be… intimate with women before?"  
"Heavens, yes. But none of them were even remotely tempting enough to waste my virtue on. Believe me when I tell you that _sex_ has been the last thing on my mind for decades." He suddenly walked towards his red haired beauty. As she wiped her soapy hands on a towel, he held her by the hips, nuzzling her neck. "That is... until a few weeks ago."  
"Yes, I've noticed," she gave him a soft sexy little giggle while turning in his arms to face him. Sherlock kissed her lips and tried to deepen the snog but she suddenly pulled away. "Who's the dreaded client?"  
"Sylvia Smithston," he quickly replied, wanting to continue their moment of affection instead of talking about the horrible creature.  
"Sylvia Smithston?!" Steph pulled away completely, face growing pale. "Famous film star Sylvia Smithston?!"  
"Come to think of it, I do believe she was an actress. I only took the case because John insisted it would be rude not to. That and I think he desired an autograph," he rambled on unconcerned, growing quite frustrated at the sudden loss of contact and the undesired change of atmosphere.  
"But that woman is… Everyone knows she's… Sherlock, she's_ beautiful_," the wide eyed girl gasped. "She wanted to shag you and you… turned her away?"  
"Is it so impossible to imagine me, of all people, turning someone down?"  
"Smithston isn't just someone. She's practically a sex icon."  
"What do I care about pop-culture?"  
"Any man that can say he lost his virtue to Sylvia Smithston is… I can't believe you didn't take the offer."  
"Offers- as in multiple," he groaned in dire need of a subject change. "What have you been doing all day?"  
"Bit of reading. Wasting time on John's laptop-"  
"You cracked his password code?"  
"Child's play," she winked.  
Sherlock couldn't help an adoring chuckle while pulling her in for another long kiss. _Finally_, he thought when they resumed their teasing touches.

* * *

"So how many then?"  
The room had been silent for almost an hour and a half. While her speech was sudden, the boyfriend didn't mind hearing the delightful voice. He was glad that they were the sort of pair that didn't always have to be chatting. Yes, this was precisely what a relationship between intellectuals should be.  
Sherlock's eyes never left the laptop screen when he replied, "How many what?"  
"Offers."  
And then he changed his opinions on having conversation at present.  
Now glaring over towards her, sitting on the couch with a half read book in her hand, he answered, "Are you joking? _That_ has been the reason for our long silence?"  
"Not particularly." Mostly a lie.  
"It's a rubbish question. The details are completely useless and I'd rather not take a trip down memory lane."  
"I was only asking."  
"And I'm not answering." He paused while returning to his work for only a few seconds. "Don't tell me you're jealous of women I dealt with for only a few hours."  
"You were warned the first time I met Molly. I'm not the jealous type but you, Sherlock Holmes, have certainly brought it out in me. And it's not jealousy. It's more… curiosity. Your staying as chaste as you have for as long as you have is extremely rare. Especially when there have been what sounds like a great deal of willing women. And not just any women."  
He began to ignore her and returned his full attention to the screen. She recognized what he was doing immediately. Taking the hint, Steph began to flip through muted channels on the telly. Another several silent minutes passed.  
"I was not exaggerating when I told you that you are the very first woman I ever considered knowing on this level. I was never attracted to anyone in this way and of all people I never expected it to be someone with my own social handicaps. So, for the last time, my dearest Cassidy, I do not wish to further discuss my past history with women."  
She took her eyes off him to the telly then back again only long enough to watch what he did next. He did nothing. The man continued tapping on the keyboard and scrolling down some science page. _Unbelievable_, she thought with a pleased smirk. Little did she know he was watching her reflection on the laptop screen. His focus returned to the page for a few moments.  
"Stupid! Of course," he yelled in delight. Sherlock swiftly rose from the seat then grabbed his coat and scarf.  
By the time he was at the door, Steph shook her head in amusement.  
"I'll see you later then, yeah?"  
He walked over to her, grabbed her face, then placed an excited kiss on her forehead.  
"I won't be long, Steph. Wait up for me. This is going to be more fun than I originally anticipated. Her P.A. is hiding quite a bit of valuable information from her," he rambled.  
"Please grab something to eat. Even if it's from a Pret. You've been going without food for three days."  
"Alright, fine," he answered quickly. "Oh, this is going to be interesting." Then he was off.  
She didn't like the thought of him spending time with a film star that had once offered herself to him. Sherlock wouldn't give the actress the slightest hope yet Steph found it difficult to be rational. She was always rational and hardly ever dramatic about matters like this. Yet she couldn't help feeling the slight sting of jealousy.  
"If you think the case is going to be interesting, you just wait. Mr. Holmes, I'm going to make tonight the most _interesting_ night of your life." After the whispered vow, Steph grabbed her purse and left 221B as quickly as her boyfriend had.

* * *

Thunderstorms always made the city chaotic. Sherlock was thrilled to be back home after the ridiculous film star's case. John stayed in the taxi and took off for a late meal with "an old friend"- clearly a woman. Sherlock figured it was for the best knowing that Steph would probably want to continue what had been started earlier. The lights in their flat were all off, save for a glow somewhere down the hall. Everything was nearly spotless- from nervous cleaning no doubt. It was only half past nine yet Steph appeared to already be in bed. A few minutes later, that's where he found her.  
Large candles had been placed all over the room with a few tea-lights scattered on raised surfaces. Sherlock finally glanced over to the bed to find Steph in a revealing light pink satin little number.  
"I was wondering how long you'd be," she smiled almost too flirtatiously in a laying position Sherlock found quite odd.  
"What on earth are you doing?"  
"Wanted to do something a little different tonight."  
"Different? The house's current state is different enough, don't you think? The candles, vanilla aroma, and that _thing_ you're wearing is a bit much," he announced with minimal emotion- disappointment in his tone.  
"This _thing_… was for you. I thought you'd like it." His words had hurt her but she wouldn't let it show just how much. "What's wrong? Your case not go well? Miss film star throw herself at you again?"  
"Yes, actually. On both accounts."  
Steph's heart dropped into her stomach. She had been only a bit wounded before. Now he was just being cruel. The part of her that always felt slightly inadequate seemed to double in size each passing second until she asked herself why she didn't simply go to bed early.  
"No, don't do that. Putting yourself down will do you nothing but unnecessary harm. Of course I didn't allow her to lay a finger on me. I made it clear that I was taken and even when she challenged that, I physically moved her a few paces away. Then I come home and you've done this- 'for me'. Why? Why are you trying so hard to impress me with all this? This isn't you. My Stephanie Thomas has never thrown herself at me like a desperate school girl. If not to get my attention, what is if for?"  
The girl was practically stone now- motionless, speechless, and a distant look in her eyes.  
"Well, converse," Sherlock lowly ordered, suddenly confused. "You wanted to talk earlier." A brief pause. "Judging by your actions and lack of words, you obviously have something to say. Quite a bit, actually. Your unspoken thoughts and emotions have been building since this morning. And there is absolutely no need for jealousy. I rather hoped you would have fully accept that by now."  
"Bloody sod," she hissed, staring daggers into him.  
"A start," he flatly replied.  
"I wanted everything to be perfect for you when you got back. Flat was clean, room romantic, and me in this ridiculous-"  
"Then why did you do it? Do I ever complain if something is untidy? Things are always far more clean than before you moved in. As for this room at present, I don't understand. We never require candles or _lingerie_. I would much rather have you after a horrible overly testing day however you are when I arrive."  
"Perhaps I felt like I needed to do something more to keep your attention." She paused hating the very words. "I was jealous."  
Before she could speak again, Sherlock sat atop the bed and took his girlfriend's hands in his. At first, she dodged his touch. But Sherlock wasn't in the mood to be overly tested. Steph finally allowed the contact- her scowl revealing the woman he loved beneath the costume.  
"There is no reason for you to be jealous. I thought our conversation this morning sufficed. There has never been another woman nor will there ever be. Therefore, you shouldn't worry where my special attention will stray because it won't. I'm in this relationship and do not wish to go elsewhere." His voice was so soft now, emotional even. His words and face were fighting for her complete understanding and acceptance. She was feeling more ashamed as he continued. "What can I do to make you believe me? I won't leave you just beca-"  
Realization. It hit him harder than usual. The very thought of her previous boyfriend made his insides quake with the new information he hadn't bothered asking about.  
"He left you for another woman."  
Stephanie didn't need to cry or answer. Memories from her still secret past filled her face too quickly. There may as well have been a film projector showing her past hurt and struggles concerning the woman that unexpectedly took her place. Sherlock took her face in his hands, looked deeply into her eyes, and nearly sang the words in that low special voice she needed more than anything.  
"He left you because he knew he would never be enough for you. It wasn't because you weren't worth his time or affection. In a way, he was setting you free- the only way a young man knows to do. And as for her, she undoubtedly made him feel superior in a way he could never feel with you. He didn't stray because you weren't enough, my angel. He cheated and left with her because of the exact opposite. He wasn't enough for you."  
"That's what everyone else said but they didn't know-"  
"It hurt, didn't it? Being in that relationship hurt but not as badly as the way he ended things. The first time you let someone in they burned you until you lost sight of everything you thought you knew." Her eyes told him he was correct. A new realization came to him, one far more bitter than sweet. "Then you let me in. Of all people, you let in the machine without a heart or a fraction of sentiment."  
"That's not true. You've always had a heart. And you've always been more sentimental than you would ever dream of admitting." Finally a half smile with eyes slightly brighter than before.

"He happened only a while ago-two years?-but you still trusted me enough to let me in. And not just let me in but you gave yourself fully and completely. The way you had-"  
"He had my affection, my time, and I did care for him. But I never felt for him the way I feel about you, Sherlock. Not by a long shot. And not because I had something to prove. It took a while but I knew I deserved better. Then I found you." A soft chuckle and stare of admiration. "And I knew I was enough to deserve someone as mad, chaotic, dangerous, emotionally ignorant, and brilliant as you. You were what, who, I had always been waiting for. You were cut out of the same alien piece of cloth-"  
Steph's lips were suddenly crushed by his. Her gasp of surprise was followed by a moan that drove him on. He wasn't going to leave this room until she accepted the truths he had spoken. She was too good for the careless boy and was still too good- even for him, the great Sherlock Holmes. Ravishing her until she understood her true worth and beauty was now his top, his only, priority. She needed to know what she meant to him. How brave she had been to let someone like him inside her scarred heart in the first part. And she did so knowing that he could do far worse to her than the last had. The kisses grew deeper as wandering hands pushed both further than intended. Thunder and hard raid continued outside and added all the elements of romance they needed. He parted from her only long enough to look into her eyes, a face full of mischief.  
"We won't be needing this," he smirked with fingers gently tugging at the soft pink material. "Save it for a later night. Tonight, I just want _you_."  
Delight and sweet understanding flashed across her eyes. Steph pulled him down with her in anticipation of what was to come. They both needed this. They each had a message they wanted to become clear with only one way of doing so.  
An unexpected knock was the source of their immense displeasure. Since Sherlock was more clothed, he was the obvious volunteer to confront whoever had ruined their love making. He quickly ran a hand through his already tousled curls and took an aggravated breath before swinging the door open. Nervous Molly Hooper fiddled with a small bag before meeting his questioning stare.  
"The uh," she finally glanced up to meet his irritated stare. "The electric in my flat went out from the storm."  
"I deduced as much but… Why come here?" Her timing was ridiculous.  
"I don't really have anywhere else to go," mousey Molly answered in a whisper, eyes back to the floor.  
Stephanie came out from the hall wearing Sherlock's blue dressing gown with a warm smile to match her welcoming eyes.  
"Molly, how unfortunate," Steph sighed before embracing her new friend- her tone and actions left Sherlock in total disbelief.  
"I'm so sorry-"  
"No problem at all. We were just getting ready for bed ourselves, weren't we, love," she practically sang.  
The girl all but winked at him. While he held her happiness high on his list of concerns, her being so bubbly at present was borderline obnoxious. What he couldn't fathom was that little Cassidy wasn't acting. His girlfriend was genuinely prepared to help her new female mate in every way possible. Unbelievable.  
"The sofa is available or you can steal John's bed. I'm sure he wouldn't mind."  
"The sofa is fine. Thank you so much. I really appreciate it," Molly replied, almost completely relaxed and nearly moved to tears.  
"I won't be long. Go ahead and get changed," Steph grinned to Sherlock before preparing the room for their surprise guest.  
Sherlock wanted to roll his eyes but instead hid his smirk and sighed, "Good night, Miss Hooper."

"Oh, good night, Sherlock," his old friend squeaked in return, still a bit shy at the thought of sleeping in his flat.  
By the time Sherlock slid under the covers, cool again from lack of body heat, Steph pranced into the room. The giddy bounce in her step annoyed him beyond reason. He had been so close to ravishing her every last doubt away and now they had company. And not just any company but Molly Hooper, the woman that had waited on him for so long only to have her hopes dashed. Before his mind had a chance to process the entire exchange, his carefree beauty took her place beside him. Without a word, only that dopey little grin, she tied her hair back and situated herself beside him. He watched her in stunned silence. It wasn't until her eyes met his that he couldn't help himself.  
"And you are so delighted because?"  
"I got to help a new friend. I don't make those very often and Molly Hooper could be the best thing that ever happened to me. With the exception of you, of course." She kissed his cheek before laying down.  
"Oh no. You aren't getting out of this so easily," he announced with a soft chuckle, attempting to scoop her into his arms.  
"This? Whatever are you going on about?"  
"One moment we are about to… And then-"  
"Then we received company, my love. We can't be rude. Especially since it's Molly," she whispered.  
"Yes, but… I'm still rather worked up," he confessed through gritted teeth.  
Steph thought for a moment. Her expression suddenly softened, that lover's glow replaced the playfulness dancing in her eyes.  
"I have an idea," she cooed.  
"I had one also but that was bloody shot to he-"  
"There's other enjoyable things to do besides sex to show affection. Lay down on your back and put your head in my lap," she sweetly ordered.  
At first reluctant, he obeyed. After he made several sounds of objection, Holmes was finally situated.  
"I don't see how this helps," he hissed.  
"Just be still. We can't be intimate tonight but there's something that still might take the edge off."  
"It's very unlikely that you could-"  
Her fingers combing though his curls sent an unexpected jolt through his body. She wasn't touching the rest of his body yet she didn't have to. The slight pull and constant smoothing of his hair made him relax in a way he didn't understand. How could she bring this response from him by simply… Oh, it felt wonderful.  
"How do you… know to…" He couldn't hardly speak.  
She released a soft giggle, loving the way he was melting beneath her fingers.  
"Most men find this relaxing."  
"And you know this how?"  
"I've never seen a bloke tell his girlfriend to stop when she offered to play with his hair. Apparently, its calming." She paused, her hands going still against his scalp. "Do you not like it?"  
"Don't you dare stop, little Cassidy. My brilliant, irresistible girl," he all but yawned, suddenly tired.

Stephanie tried to contain her giggle but couldn't. Each time he tried to speak, she begged him to be quiet and reminded him of their guest.

Once he was completely asleep, she gently moved his now tangled head of curls to his pillow. She turned off the light and moved herself as close to him as possible. Even in his sleep, he pulled her against him with a satisfied little sound from deep in his throat. They both rested very well that night, despite the fact that they both loathed company- and unexpected company even more. But even with Molly Hooper sleeping on their sofa, the lovers found a way to work out their built tension.

* * *

The following day, while putting great thought into his next case, Sherlock found Steph sitting on the sofa Molly had slept on the night before. She was finishing her book but he didn't care. The novel was taken from her and thrown onto the table. Her boyfriend laid on the sofa and put his head in her lap as was done a number of hours ago.  
"Go on," he flatly ordered as if she was to have read his mind seconds ago.  
Steph rolled her eyes glowing with love for the impossible man then began running her fingers through his hair. Once again, the action relaxed him. Only minutes later, he jumped up from her lap.

"Of course!" he happily cheered. Sherlock took a step away before turning on his heels to face his girlfriend once more. "That is fantastic for concentration. As of today, that is a thing."  
"A thing?"  
"Yes," he quickly gave her a giddy smirk. "If I need to go into a quick but deep concentration, do that."  
"Run my fingers through your hair?" She was laughing from a mixture of shock and amusement.  
"I'll be home later to finish what I started last night," he stated as a mundane fact.  
"Finish your case first, Mr. Consulting Detective. Then we'll see about continuing anything."  
And that is the story of how Stephanie Thomas discovered that Sherlock Holmes liked his hair to be played with.


	8. Anniversary (Part 1)

"You know, I think I'm just going to stay on the sofa tonight," she announced in a quiet way Sherlock wasn't used to.

"On the sofa? Why would you do such a ridiculous thing? Don't be daft." He all but snorted the words.

"Not feeling well. Wouldn't want to keep you up all night coughing and such. You need to be sharp tomorrow for the big case," she argued, her motives now in question.

"The week you were at your very worst we still slept together. You won't be a bother. I'll be no different than any other night we've spent together." He paused with one eyebrow arched higher than the other. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing," she growled in irritation. Steph grabbed her pillow and a blanket from the closet. "I'll see you in the morning." Then she left the room.

"Fine." It was said as if he was completely uninterested in the matter. "Evening."

He had learned long ago how to mask his frustration behind the icy tone everyone associated him with. Sherlock changed his clothes, brushed his teeth, and continued the rest of his nightly routine- the domestic one that had started the first week Steph began spending her nights with him. It was a slight effort to ignore the sitting room lights being turned off but he managed to remain silent. Any other night he would have considered staying up to work but he found himself oddly tired tonight. What had it been? Four days since he had slept?

Everything was "fine" until he was under the covers searching for a comfortable position to sleep in. Tossing and turning in every way possible, Sherlock reached for his other pillow. Perhaps he simply needed a replacement for her in his arms. But she had taken it with her to the sofa. What was this all about anyway? He had noticed she was more quiet than usual earlier in the evening but, same as anyone else, she had her quiet nights. Even John had said something about it. It was nothing too alarming until just now. They were doing extremely well with eachother. The domestic routines they had somehow fallen into were agreeable to both parties and the bedroom had never been anything short of interesting.

He didn't have enough data to go off of and that fact alone made him uneasy. No one kept secrets from Sherlock Holmes. This, as everyone knew, was mostly because he could see right through everyone- everyone save the red haired angel that had been the one and only exception on many accounts.

Another rotation against the mattress. Another deep sigh filled the room as he desperately searched for relaxation. As mad as it sounded, his body had forgotten how to sleep alone. He would have to be tangled in some odd position to fall asleep. Had he truly changed so much since her?

After almost ten minutes of this, Sherlock accepted that not falling asleep didn't bother him nearly as much as the thought of Stephanie going through something and suffering in silence. So many times she was brave, putting on a good face and remaining indifferent when she didn't need to be. Did she do it for his sake or was it simply part of her- a part that had been established long before they met? If she was upset about something, which seemed to be the logical assumption, what was it? Tomorrow's case suddenly meant nothing to the detective. His heart, his woman, was breaking and he needed to investigate.

"Bollocks," he hissed.

* * *

Steph was glad he hadn't challenged her. The alone time seemed to be needed. Or was that the lie she was feeding to herself? Her conscious and subconscious had always known when and how to betray her. Part of her longed to be wrapped in the safety of his arms, the safest spot in all the world. But the larger more stubborn part of her needed to be here in the next room, alone.

He wouldn't understand. How could he? Sherlock had only just learned of his capability to feel. While she kept her own emotions fully in check, there had always been this one thing that made her weaker than she ever wanted to be. This had been her demon that tormented her off and on throughout the year but it always made a full attack around the particular date.

Closing her eyes, she snuggled into the pillow and blanket doing her best to fall asleep. But when she closed her eyes she couldn't help the images that flashed through her tired mind. It was always sad and unbearable memories that haunted her on nights like this. If sleep was achieved on these nights, it was always a small sort of miracle. A few more deep breaths were taken before everything fell silent. Sherlock's light was even off.

She suddenly heard him mumble something before loud footsteps echoed down the hall. Just as she hoped wouldn't happen, Sherlock was on his way. The thought of pretending to be asleep entered her mind but the fact that he would know the difference was soon to follow.

_Bollocks_, she thought.

Her argument would depend on his chosen words. The kitchen light was turned on before she could think of something to say. It was only a matter of seconds before-

"You're hiding something from me," he announced standing over her in his house robe with arms crossed at his chest.

Steph opened her eyes, pretending to be half asleep, and replied, "What are you going on about?"

"Oh, don't act as if you were almost asleep. You haven't even had time to enter into your first sleep cycle," he sneered with a nasty shake of his head. "Something is bothering you and you won't tell me."

"I'm tired, Sherlock. Go back to bed," she sighed, keeping entirely calm.

"No. Not until we talk."

"The fact that you don't know what's bothering me is torturing you more than the fact that something is bothering me in the first place."

Was she right? He didn't know at the moment. Her being upset was what had drug him out of bed in the first place, was it not? Then again, he had been able to sleep with a troubled Stephanie lying in his arms before. These thoughts flew through his mind in what should have taken seconds but was only a single moment.

"That's not true."

"Of course it is. You just had to ask yourself," she called him out.

"There's really no need for this, Stephanie. Just tell me."

"I'd rather not. Not tonight. Not while you're like this."

"Like _what_?"

"Yelling and ordering. If I were to talk to you, it wouldn't be like this," she snapped in reply then rolled with her back towards him.

There were several clever comments he wanted to make, most of them rude. But for whatever reason, he couldn't bring himself to utter a single syllable. Instead, he paced around the room with frustration. His hands ruffled into the mass of curls as he released another shaky breath, not knowing what course of action to take next. She was denying him information, blocking him out of her mental process. He loathed not knowing what was going through her mind. They were always so in sync, and when they weren't he instantly became some level of anxious.

"The room was quiet before you barged in. I'd greatly appreciate if you took your frantic pacing into your room," she requested in a strong but muffled voice.

If he left her now, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. She was obviously very upset about something. She was upset to the point that she didn't want him to know why. They had been absolutely open with eachother since the start of their relationship. He saw no need for her to break that now.

The kitchen light was turned off leaving the room as dark as it had been before he entered. Steph was expecting angry footsteps to return up the hall but was shocked to feel him slide behind her. She turned to face him with an expression resembling hidden surprise, one he was beginning to recognize.

"What are you doing?" she asked, defenses still high.

"I'm sleeping on the sofa," he gently answered, situating himself beside her on the suddenly small sofa.

"Don't be mad. There's not enough room for two."

"Oh, but there is. It'll be tight but we can manage."

"Just go back to bed, Sherlock," she quietly whined- was that a sob building in her tone?

"Not without you." His hand stroked her hair back from her face, testing the waters.

Their eyes suddenly met. He searched hers for some hint of what was going on in that racing mind of hers. She wanted to know that he was not bluffing; his intent stare was proof enough.

"There will be no winning with you tonight, will there?" she sighed in hopeless defeat.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong," he nearly whispered, his shaky tone making her feel a bit guilty. But not enough to comply.

Once he knew she wasn't going to talk, he pulled her body on top of his. He took special care in putting her head against his chest then covering them both under the blanket. Instead of fighting him, as he had expected her to, Steph melted into him. They stayed like this for several minutes in silence, each completely awake and lost in their own thoughts.

"I'm sorry," she finally whispered.

"I only wish you felt comfortable enough to talk about it. Whatever it is, I don't care. Just let me in, Steph." He pulled her face up look into her eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"No, but even talking about it will hurt," she confided with tearing eyes.

Before he could see one drop fall, she hid her face atop his chest where it was before. Conveniently out of his sight. But he felt that first tear soak through his shirt all the same. His arms wrapped around her the way she secretly longed for. Even if she didn't want to talk with him about it, she felt better simply being held by him. She should have known not to push him away on one of her rare emotional nights.

Sherlock was almost asleep, more passed out from exhaustion than anything, when he felt her reposition. Seconds later her hand tangled into his hair. A pleasurable feeling coursed through him as she gently tugged and pulled where she knew he liked. Unexpectedly, he was becoming more awake with each stroke. Those small fingers dug deeper into his scalp until he was practically purring. Even if she wasn't talking, denying him the chance to help her, she still wanted him to know she cared. It was as if this precious action was replacing the three words that had been on his own tongue the last several quiet minutes.

He suddenly wanted to be closer to her. Even closer than they were at present. Stephanie was lying on top of him, her lifeless body pressed to his, but he wanted more. He needed the silence and bit of hurt she had caused him to pass, if possible. If this was the wrong way to cope with the present situation, he hoped it wouldn't increase her current anxiety and confusion.

Without warning, he returned her now damp face to his and pressed his lips hard onto hers, confirming the fact that he was there. After the surprise wore off, which was much quicker than he had anticipated, Steph deepened the kiss- accepting his physical and emotional proximity. The woman continued the kiss while moving her body up his closing whatever distance was left between them. Her free hand joined the other deep into the dark sea of curls as his hands slid down to her waist. Sherlock pulled her closer as her walls seemed to come down. Their breathing was becoming loud and he didn't want to wake John- who had surely heard some of their row earlier.

"Come to bed," he begged in a whisper, meeting her misty gaze.

Steph froze in his arms long enough to make her decision. Sherlock couldn't help a quick grin when she gave a small nod in agreement.

"Grab your pillow." His voice was calm and sweet now, but the added urgency in the request gave her incentive to obey without question.

He swooped her up from the sofa as if she was a child, pillow and all. She was carried through the hall and into his room where she was placed on her feet. Sherlock only left her long enough to close the door. Before he had turned back around, Steph was walking towards the open window.

It was too late and chilly for anyone to be out on this windy night but looking down onto the quiet street somehow had a calming effect on her. The moon was out and did a fair job of giving Baker Street a soft pale glow. Her still dreary thoughts evaporated when his warm hands pulled her hair over one shoulder, warm lips finding the newly exposed skin in one caressing motion. Steph closed her eyes and tilted her head giving him full access to roam wherever he pleased. Anything to keep her mind off the past and her concentration on his wet kisses.

While lips roamed her neck, Sherlock slowly slid his hands around her hips and up her stomach. He loved the way she slightly arched her back against his chest, practically feeling her first shudders of pleasure. Though her body remained facing the window, her attention was fully on his rising hands. When he began biting at her earlobe, Steph suddenly wanted nothing more than to give him whatever he wanted. Her arms bent up behind her until her hands were at the back of his neck. Her fingers found the bottom layers of his already messy hair.

Now that her body was completely stretched against him, spread out entirely for the single purpose of his convenience, the man grew a bit brave. There were still many ways he hadn't been brave enough to try- things that would also bring him great satisfaction. He wanted to hear her even if it wasn't the proper conversation he had initially wanted. He didn't care if she spoke now. His only present desire was to hear the sounds that confirmed their intimacy, their love.

The large warm hands slid up to her chest until her memories finally got the best of her. Sherlock was surprised when Steph suddenly turned in his arms, wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, and buried her face in his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

Though he was looking forward to the passionate session, she was his first priority. And at the moment, her mind was far from passion. It was clear that she was looking for a quick fix to kill the pain for a while. But sex wasn't the cure, not when she was like this. Holding her close, he began to sway with her in his arms. Her breathing suggested that she was going to cry any moment but she somehow managed to keep it inside- something he didn't particularly care for.

"Shall we get some rest?"

Her head rose and those misty green eyes met his. One silent nod confirmed that she wouldn't open up tonight. But tomorrow night, when they were together again, he was going to get to the bottom of this. One way or another he was going to find the source of her current state of depression. They crawled into bed and automatically fell into their cuddled position, only tonight she slid her fingers through his.

"Just breath slowly and try to relax," he cooed into her hair.

Stephanie's thoughts were somehow silenced long enough for her to drift off first. The last thing she heard was her boyfriend uttering the three words she needed to hear most. Sherlock dreaded the curiosity that would find him later in the day. More than that, he dreaded the mysterious pain that was waiting for her in just a few short hours.


	9. Anniversary (Part 2)

"Have you seen Stephanie?" Sherlock moaned, finding John's sarcasm and unbelievable ability to waste time asking questions quite annoying.

"No. I thought she was still in there with you. Haven't heard anything."

As hastily as he had entered, Sherlock made his way down stairs to the aunt that might have more information.

-

"Stephanie Thomas," Mary giggled. "I can't believe you! The way you talk about him sounds more like a pair of teenagers than anything else."

"A bit more than teenage love. It's odd and a bit scary at times. He's very much the male version of myself. Quiet with a low tolerance for those lacking any sense whatsoever, has the curse of superior intelligence, and we've been dealing with these new… emotions together. It's sickening really," she concluded before taking another sip.

Mary laughed form across the café table and smiled, "So he's either in his own little world or rude, sees everything about everyone, and now the only ones the two of you can tolerate are eachother? Ha! That's a laugh. A pair of barmy geniuses, the two of you."

"That's one way of putting it," Steph sighed. She glanced up to the unusually blue sky in a thoughtful expression that made Mary nervous. "It's good to be here, Mary. It really truly is. Not so much that I want to be here but you know how-"

"You don't have to explain a thing to me, dear. Sometimes you just have to sneak off."

"Yes, but you don't know my boyfriend. Ten quid he calls checking on me."

"Ten quid Auntie Hudson tells on you."

"Bollocks! I completely forgot to tell her! She'll know exactly where- Why are you laughing?"

"You're terrified that she'll tell him. It's funny is all. You're never scared of anything."

"Not 'scared'. This is just too close to home for comfort. You didn't tell anyone about our meeting did you?"

"Heavens no. You think I'm mad?"

-

They played here as children. Morbid as it was, one of Stephanie's most beloved childhood memories was running around the grave stones with little Mary. The girls would hide and sing in the random patches of grass as their mothers reminisced at the grave of Steph's grandmother. They were so young then and didn't see why it was improper to laugh and dance around the many flowers. Surely the dead didn't mind. The dead didn't do anything.

To this day, her feet lead her through the path they would always take on their visits. She passed her grandmother's grave without a care, only seeing ghosts of the little blonde and red headed girls skipping about. Another few slow steps lead her to a headstone apart from the others. It was the most polished stone of them all and was always kept safe in the shadow of what had always been her favorite tree. There had always been something magical about her dead brother's tree. While illogical, it still held an unexplainable calming effect on her even now.

In a simple short black dress and black heels, Stephanie took her place in front of the stone. The bouquet of white roses in her hand was gently tossed in front of the monument.

"Hello, Matty. I'm here for our annual meeting… Well, sort of," she began in an almost whisper. "Something has happened recently, Matt. I think you would be more than pleased." There was a short chuckle before the laughter became melancholy. "Actually, you'd bloody loathe him. But he's good to me and he's the only one who understands me. He's complicated in every way but, underneath layers and layers of sarcasm and emotional ignorance… Sherlock's a good man. Good and getting better every day."

A lonely wind blew through the tree. The leaves above fluttered as their branches swayed. Sunlight peeked through the mighty tree's large gaps. Peaceful.

"Mum and dad are… well, mum and dad. Not that you would know what that means. She's still stubborn as ever and he follows her lead, though he has created a few opinions of his own. But they both want me to leave my new life in London and return home for the summer. Oh, I forgot to tell you…" She couldn't help a smile.

"I almost joined you a few weeks ago. Came bloody close to death. Twice, actually. You never imagine it at the hand of a criminal mastermind. That would have been the way to go, yeah? Out with a bang." Steph giggled at her own dark joke.

"They don't know I'm here. Mary does and Aunt Hudson may have an idea. But not mum and dad." She paused. "Not Sherlock. He's probably given my disappearance all of a few minute's thought. Probably figures I've simply gone out for the day and will return in a few hours… If he's not been occupied with another of his mad cases."

"Actually, he spent the better part of the morning looking for you," replied a voice from behind her.

Steph jumped and spun around all in one swift motion. At the sudden voice, she had been startled. Now, an entire wave of other emotions crashed over her.

"Sherlock," she whispered in an apologetic manner.

"You could have told me." He looked half mad. The usually bright or mischievous eyes were almost hurt.

"Didn't want you to see me this way," she admitted casting her gaze downward.

"I'd much rather see you like this than receive a photo of you half naked tied to a chair." While his tone had been calm, his point was perfectly made.

"Forgive me. I didn't think you would be so upset." Either from sudden guilt or sheer surprise, she turned her body back towards her brother's grave. "Auntie told you, didn't she?"

"I was very worried and she knows me well. Her cooperation only saved me a bit of time. I would have gotten here eventually. Just good timing."

She could hardly believe the words about to come out of her own mouth but they needed saying. He needed to know.

"I'm… I'm glad you came," Stephanie whispered. "I've never brought anyone here for this. It's a first but it's nice. If it were anyone else I'd be so… So-"

"You'd wipe those tears from your eyes as if you haven't been crying. Then you would act as if you just arrived. You'd be cross and unbecomingly rude, but secretly embarrassed for being caught."

"Being caught?"

"There's one focal difference between you and I." With her back still towards him, Sherlock slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her close to his chest. "You've always had a fraction of emotion. More than likely because of your gender but possibly more so because of what happened to your brother and the dark effects it had on your childhood."

"Don't do this to me right now." Her wavering voice gave her away. "I've always loved Matt. He's been both my angel and my demon since before I can remember. My should-have-been equal and my unreachable goal."

His large hands grabbed at her shoulders and spun her around so that his passionate stare could find her own cloudy gaze.

"Don't you hear how daft you're being? Your parents never wanted you to be him. That was a burden you completely placed upon yourself."

"You don't have any idea what it's like growing up in the shadow of someone you don't even know," Steph hissed in a half whimper.

Just after his face filled with sorrow that could only be from the past, Sherlock whispered, "But I do." She understood his meaning immediately but he continued anyway. "I grew up in the shadow of an older sibling that loathed my very existence. Mycroft never made my life anything short of hell and did so intentionally. To 'make me strong', or so he claimed many times."

"But you were always strong."

"It wasn't until I broke the walls desperately guarding my inward emotions that I became strong. And that wasn't until I met John. He somewhat humanized and moralized me more than any other being or event prior to our meeting." Taking her face between his hands, Sherlock vowed, "If Mathew had lived, he would have loved you. The pair of you would have grown up average children of standard intelligence that belonged to adoring parents. But he didn't live. He died and you were born into a dramatic existence." His words were of no comfort and were starting to make her defensive. "But… It was Mathew's death that made you who you are today. And it's this woman, the tortured brilliant girl, that I love with all my heart."

Before another word was spoken, she threw her arms around his neck and sobbed against his chest. Her tears soaked through his fresh shirt but he didn't seem to notice. Instead, he held her against him and let her cry in silence.

She was more human than he could ever be yet she was more similar to him than she was the rest of the world. That was his angel, caught somewhere between higher-being and an everyman. If someone had told him five years ago that he would fall in love he would have told them to piss off. But now, he couldn't remember precisely what his life was before her.

"I already have a hotel room if you would like to go there for the night," he whispered into her hair, very gently as if she would break if he spoke too loud. Her answer was reduced to a single nod against his chest. "Alright then."


	10. Anniversary (Part 3)

Steph wiped her eyes and took his hand to lead him away from Mathew's grave. They got a cab and were in his hotel room in thirty minutes. She called Mary to let her know that she wasn't alone and wouldn't be staying with her as planned. The cousin was relieved at the news of Sherlock coming to the rescue. While the rest of the night was spend cuddled in bed watching horribly written and painfully predictable films on the telly. Then the girl found the last fifteen minutes of the recent Pride and Prejudice film. Once it ended, she turned the telly off completely.

"You actually like that one," Sherlock noted.

"My one and only favorite film," she confessed with a bashful grin.

"Tired?"

"Yeah."

There was a long pause before he got the nerve to venture onto personal territory.

"You should call your parents and let them know-"

"There would be no use in telling them I'm here. They'd only make it worse," she announced rather defensively.

"You need to talk to them."

He was noble in his advice and genuinely wanted to help but he didn't know her parents.

"Trust me. That is a conversation best saved for later."

"Why not get it out of the way? Get it over with."

"Fine. I'll just pop over to their place unannounced and willingly start the conversation I've been avoiding my entire life… As soon as you tell your brother that he's in love with Anthea."

"What?!"

"Oh, come on, Sherlock. Mycroft is the only one who doesn't know. She even knows it," Steph growled. She was more or less making a point. The conversation he wanted her to dive into would be just as difficult and awkward as the one he'd have with Mycroft. Yet everyone knew the two brothers would never have that little chat.

"Fine. Not this trip. But you need to do it sooner rather than later. Two decades is already too long to avoid a conversation of such importance."

She returned to their cuddling position, already hoping for a specific answer to the question she had yet to ask.

"And why is that particular conversation of such great importance?"

"Because you're hurting. And I know talking with them might possibly make things better for everyone."

"Since when have you been a family therapist?"

"I'm not," he smirked. "What little amount of sentiment my girlfriend is capable of seems to be rubbing off on me."

Their noses touched, neither sure if they wanted to kiss at that moment. Steph was first to pull back, returning her head to his chest. Sherlock began to play with her hair, each falling in their own thoughts as they so often did.

"You know I'll be there for you. No matter what you do or when you decide to do it."

"I know."

"Go to sleep. We'll sort everything out tomorrow. Maybe we'll find something to do."

"Will you meet Mary?"

Sherlock grew nervous at the very thought of meeting the first of his girlfriend's relatives. She felt him tense beneath her.

"She's been wanting to meet you for some time and, in all honesty, she would be the perfect first victim."

"Victim?"

"Yes," she laughed, their eyes finally meeting. "The first victim of my family to meet the complex being known as Sherlock Holmes."

"Ah. You mean your rude embarrassing stranger-deducing boyfriend," he sarcastically chuckled with his arms wrapped around her.

"Yeah, him."

"Good night, Cassidy," he sighed in false annoyance.

"Good night, my love."

-

"You don't have to do this," Steph took his hand and waited until his eyes glanced towards hers.

"Of course I do. It was your only request last night," he sighed. His eyes quickly returned to the cab window.

"Yes, and I made it on an overly emotional night." Her pause was full of nervous thoughts. Why was he more calm than she was? She was excited to see Mary yet dreaded the two most important people in her life talking face to face. "Anything that happened or that was said yesterday- forget it. Act as if it didn't happen."

Meeting the first person from his girlfriend's family wasn't something he'd been looking forward to yet he hadn't been completely dreading the event either. It was one of those strange new couple things that had to happen. There seemed to be a lot of those.

"I'll need to meet your family some time. May as well get the first and most painless introduction out of the way."

"There's really no hurry. I can grab breakfast with her and then you and I can be on our way."

After giving her hand a squeeze, Sherlock kissed her forehead to calm her. If he didn't get worked up she wouldn't. To be truthful, he wasn't sure why she was so on edge. Most girls were ecstatic to see their best friend after months of being apart. Then again, his woman was anything but most girls.

"I'm meeting her this morning. No need to fret. I'll be on my very best behavior."

"That's precisely what I'm afraid of," she groaned with a half a smile. "Oh, and Sherlock, darling."

Her hands smoothed down his dress jacket for emphasis. "No deducing. Mary is quite clever. She won't hesitate to retaliate."

"Understood," he answered as the cab stopped in front of a small café.

The two waited outside for a minute or two until Stephanie's eyes widened, her expression softened, and a smile lit her face with joy. She hugged the other girl as the cousin squealed with delight. Steph was first to brake the embrace. Blue sparkling eyes met Sherlock's as the young lady gave him a polite smile. They had already seen eachother but Mary was more than excited to spend any amount of time with Steph.

"You must be Mary," he tried to grin but honestly felt no excitement to see the woman. His hand went out to shake hers just to ensure a positive first impression.

"This is my cousin, best friend, and my John Watson," his girl stated as an introduction, adding the last bit for his amusement.

"Your who?"

Steph ignored her cousin's question and continued. "Sherlock has … gifts and attitudes very similar to my own so if he says or does something-"

"I'm perfectly used to it," the blonde chuckled with a small roll of her eyes.

"Growing up with Stephanie Thomas," Sherlock thought out loud with an amused stare towards his redhead. "How was that experience?"

Before the uncomfortable girl could say anything, her cousin was much too giddy to answer.

"Steph has always been… well, Steph. More clever than anyone else, independent, and always getting into mischief."

"Some things never change," the grinning man commented with a knowing gleam in his eyes. He completely avoided his girlfriend's dangerous glare.

"Is anyone else hungry?" she finally asked to take the conversation away from her childhood.

Nervously, she lead the others into the café to make their orders and finish this little get together. If the first part of their visit was any sign of how the remainder was going to go she was in more trouble than she had bargained for. Sherlock excused himself to the toilet as soon as they were inside- he told Stephanie to get him "a thing". Mary noticed the quick but tender kiss on the cheek he gave to her strangely happy cousin.

"He's a bit more quiet than you let on," Mary giggled watching the man disappear down the hall.

"He was given strict instructions to behave himself."

"Oh, do let him have a bit of fun. I would love to see him at work. What do you call it?"

"Deducing, Mary. It's called deducing and if I let him do that you wouldn't like it very much. You'd be in tears within a minute, love."

"Oh, he can't be better than you." It was difficult for her to believe someone was more brilliant than Steph. The things she had witnessed the girl do in the past was unbelievable.

"You're my cousin. Therefore, I am much kinder when deducing you. I've always seen more than I've let on. For your sake, of course."

"Then go on. And don't be kind about it," Mary challenged. She even took a step back as if Steph hadn't already noticed more than enough to make for an uncomfortable morning. Mary whined a bit when the other woman shook her head. "Please! It's always so fascinating."

Perfect timing, Steph thought when it was her turn to order.

"Two teas, a scone, and an éclair." Chocolate would be good for the situation she found herself. The morning was becoming more stressful than it had been when she played everything out in her mind.

Sherlock met her at a small table as Mary ordered. He immediately picked up on her posture, fidgeting, and unsteady breathing from nerves. It took a few seconds for him to decide whether he wanted to say anything or not. With the flash of a smirk, he decided to tease her a bit. She was already adorably anxious. What was one more comment?

"Already a fuss?"

"It's nothing." She would have hissed the words at him if they hadn't been in public. Knowing this fact, he only chuckled and watched her hold it all in. This would be a wonderful game. At least until she exploded later on- and she would explode.

"So, Sherlock, Steph told me you deduce people like she does."

From his peripheral vision, he saw the redhead viciously shake her head, warning him first then demanding with her flaming eyes.

"When helpful," he replied, trying his best to appease both women. At the end of the day, only Stephanie's satisfaction was of his concern.

"Go on then," Mary dared the detective, leaning in to pressure him and annoy her cousin all in one movement.

Again, Steph fervently shook her head in disapproval.

"Better not," Sherlock chuckled with a smirk, finally looking over to his on edge girlfriend.

"Why not?"

"I've made people very upset in the past."

"I'm tough," she argued as he took a sip of his tea.

It was Stephanie's turn to cut in, "I don't think-"

"Fine," Sherlock spoke to Steph's surprise and Mary's delight. His tea was set on the table then his hands steepled at his chin- normal thinking stance. He stared at her for a few seconds. A lot of information had already been noticed earlier, he couldn't help it, but now he was digging a bit deeper.

"You're practically an orphan- dead mother and an absentee father. You are caring and loyal almost to a fault- clinging onto whoever makes an effort to keep you close. You've been nanny to a posh family from Cardiff for about four years but wish to live somewhere a bit more busy. Above average intelligence- then again, you'd have to be to attend the University of Glasgow. Lonely. Love life is rubbish. Your boyfriend left you for another man and you've avoided committed relationships since. But you keep regular company and have many one night stands to ease the pain of-"

"That's enough!" Stephanie shouted, a bit louder than she meant to.

Sherlock pulled himself from his concentrative state to look at Mary, not simply staring her down but taking note of her body language and facial expressions. The woman was teary eyed but was far too proud to cry about the harsh truths here and now.

"No, he's entirely correct. Besides, I asked for it." Mary wiped the building tears in her eyes before they could fall. "Incredible really. Just like you, Steph. The pair of you are perfect for one another.

"Mary-"

"Yes, very clever indeed. Especially for a dead-man."

The slightly spiteful shift of conversation left the couple frozen in their seats. Things were definitely taking a turn for the worse. Then again, what else was to be expected when people with exceptional intellect quarreled? Steph wanted to end the visit then and there but knew it would be best to ride out whatever happened next.

"How'd you do it anyway? It's all anyone talked about for months. The mad detective from London that came back to life. It's really-"

"I don't talk about it- sure you won't mind. There were too many involved," he interrupted.

"Understand completely. Good show anyways."

Sherlock paused a while, trying his best to read her. She was putting on a show herself- pretending to be calm though she was still shaken on the inside.

"Thank you."

"Love a good mystery," Mary grinned, pretending as if she hadn't just had her entire horrible life described by her cousins twat of a boyfriend. "So does Steph. No doubt that's why she even went to London."

"I told you. Mum and dad-"

"Yes, the bloody holiday to America. Bet you're glad you chose to stay with auntie H. Then again, you wouldn't have gotten nicked- Oh my gosh! Steph, I'm so sorry. Just ramblin' along aren't I?"

"A bit," the now furious redhead dryly agreed, doing her very best to remain calm. "Is everyone finished?" Her cousin and boyfriend nodded their heads in silence. "Then shall we check out a shop or two? You wouldn't mind would you, darling?"

"Of course not," he stated while standing. "My apologies, Miss Morstan."

"No worries."

Going outside was a wonderful idea. The people in the café probably wouldn't appreciate another outburst. Part of him was overjoyed with all the deductions being made concerning the women. He could read so much of their relationship by simply observing them: the way they interacted, their body language towards one another, and the little shared looks that spoke volumes more than their dialogue.


	11. Anniversary (Part 4)

**I know it's been a while dear readers. one of my other stories took off at rocket speeds and needed my writing attention. Hope these last few chapters won your forgiveness. I'll update more often. I promise. later!**

Minutes later, the three were finishing up at the first shop. Neither female had ever loved shopping and had become quick browsers. If they didn't see something that completely thrilled them, they continued onward. They had been through every isle of the first shop in only seven minutes; Sherlock lead them out of the shop doors amazed.

The trio took a few more steps before three rough looking youth eyed them. Sherlock took notice without being suspicious himself. One of the boys said something to the others and they split off, two walking across the street as the third continued walking towards them. Judging by his stride and the movement of his eyes, he was going to try for Mary's purse. The mildly excited detective walked a few paces ahead of the girls without looking towards the boy. Just as the boy was about to walk by, Sherlock grabbed his arm.

"I wouldn't if I were you," he whispered with a grin to the boy.

"What are you talking about, mate?" The kid was going to play it off.

"The blonde's purse. Don't."

"Who do you think you are?" the kid shouted with burning angry eyes.

"A dead man."

Sherlock took great please in leaning towards the teen to give him a better look of who he was dealing with. His own wild eyes met the boy's. It didn't take the lad but a few seconds to recognize the mad detective from the papers. The sudden realization in the terrified youth's eyes was more than worth his trouble.

With a gasp, the boy was running across the street to his mates. Instead of stopping, the boy ran right past his friends. They joined in running a few paces behind him as the white faced lad continued his sprint without a single look back.

"What was that all about?" Mary asked with a half smile, a trace of worry in her clear eyes.  
The women had been so busy catching up that neither had noticed the little thieves. But Sherlock had. He always did.

"He was about to rob us, wasn't he?" Steph laughed, linking her arm with her boyfriend's.

The man nodded instead of speaking a confirmation. She saw his satisfied smirk and couldn't help giggling at him, those green eyes glowing with love for her impossible man. Mary gave her thanks before commenting on his fantastic abilities. She rambled on as before but ended her rant on a positive note.

"That tea went straight through me. Steph, come with me?"

Before following her cousin, she stood on her tip-toes to kiss her boyfriend.

"You're pleased with yourself," she teased. "Think you can manage staying out of trouble for two minutes?"

"If you ask nicely," he tested in return, a loving glow dancing in his eyes.

Steph took her time pressing her lips to his, her tongue sliding along his bottom lip as incentive.  
"Please?" the woman asked seductively.

How could she get him so bloody worked up with a single kiss? Sherlock nodded with a throaty chuckle then she was off.

As soon as the girls got into the loo, they found themselves alone for the moment. Mary went to the sink and freshened up her lipstick. It was then that Step knew that she had been set up. Mary didn't need to use the toilet. The bubbly blonde had brought her here for a quick chat.

"Tea really went through you, ay?"

"I like him. He's a bit rude, unpredictable, brilliant, not bad on the eyes, and well… Honestly, it's like having a male version of you around."

"That bad then?" Steph laughed, washing her hands while she was there to pass the time.

"Not at all. I think your parents will take to him. Maybe in time. One Stephanie Thomas is enough to keep up with before adding a Sherlock Holmes."

"Actually, they don't know much about him. I've kept them in the dark concerning the relationship. They were both furious when I didn't come back in June and hate the idea of me in London. Mother doesn't like me around auntie for very long amounts of time so this is killing her. If only," she joked to herself, wishful thinking.

"Do they even know you're in town?"

"No, and I'd like to keep it that way if you don't mind," Steph kindly requested.

"If things get any more serious between the pair of you, they'll need to know more about him."

"I know. I was thinking about bringing him home around Christmas or so. Maybe you could even come back with me for a while."

"A holiday in London?" Mary's eyes brightened with excitement. She looked like a child opening gifts, hardly able to contain herself. "Just say when!"

"Auntie would love to see you and I'm sure you'll be gasping to get away for a while. We'll talk more about it later."

"I'd like that." They stared at one another with fond expressions. "It was go good to see you, Steph."

Before the redhead could anticipate it, Mary threw her arms around her in a neck squeezing embrace. Mary was the only female Steph ever hugged, other than her aunt- and her mother when forced to do so. Her slender arms wrapped around her cousin thinking how interesting the visit had been and how quickly it had passed.

"We better find Sherlock. I wouldn't doubt he's up to something this very moment," Steph sighed on the brink of a laugh.

The two made their way back to the street. Both almost considered continuing the visit but each knew that the other had things to do. They talked on the phone often enough and Christmas was only a few months away. It also helped that their closeness allowed them to pick up wherever they left off. Large amounts of time passed between their visits but they could never tell.

"And another thing, you look happier than I can ever remember you being. Your eyes are all lit up, smiling constantly, you seem relaxed, and anyone who saw the pair of you could tell he's absolutely mad about you."

"Thank you, Mary. Really. You're always there when I need you."

"Just let me know when you need me to be a bride's maid," she laughed just before Sherlock was close enough to hear.

They said their good-byes and Sherlock even shook Mary's hand once more- a good sign. The couple spend the rest of the day near the hotel so that Stephanie could keep a low profile. It would be hell if her parents found out she was in town from someone else. But her secret was safe with Mary and they would be leaving in the morning.

-

After they had taken their showers and had their last cuppa for the night, they got into bed. It had been a good day. Her cousin meeting her boyfriend wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. Though it was a bit awkward at first, the two genuinely seemed to like eachother in the end. Her parents hadn't called and she hadn't run into any friends of the family- both miracles.

Steph sat on the edge of the bed brushing her hair and processing details and emotions from the day. Of all the years she visited her home town on this melancholy anniversary, none had been as relaxing as this. She had snuck off at first for a few days of mournful solitude but she found herself more than thankful that Sherlock had followed her. If she came next year, she was definitely bringing Mr. Holmes.

Come to think of it, she hadn't heard him say a word since he got out of his shower. Last she saw of him, he was sitting on his side of the bed playing on his mobile. As if he heard her thoughts, the bed shifted behind her then Sherlock's lips were pressed onto her naked shoulders. Steph suddenly became very aware of her lack of clothes. Without meaning to, she was wearing his favorite combination of night clothes on her- a tank top and lace panties. She could feel him sitting on his knees with her between his thighs. Her back was almost touching his naked chest. A deep blush crept up her neck as his hot breath hit the skin of her neck.

"You know what I've never done?" he breathed, obviously turned on for reasons unknown to her. She was already too far gone, lost in his wandering touches, for sentences or even simple words. Her only reply was a deep inhale. Sherlock licked at her jaw line and sucked at the sensitive skin below her ear before whispering. "I've never had a hotel shag. I keep hearing about them. Heard the actual event a number of times. But I'm curious." His hands slid under her top and rested at her waist before he breathed, "Care to assist me?"

Steph released a small giggle before turning around in his arms.

"Only if we can be the awkward rude loud couple that keep everyone else awake all night," she teased before crushing her lips to his.

And so it began.


	12. Brothers

Two overly intelligent beings under the same roof was simply asking for trouble. It was always the same bickering and rude games. They never ended and it had become a way of life long ago. Only they understood most of it, them being the only ones able to keep up with their sparring of wits and remarks of high intellect.

It was another dull evening. Both parties had a very trying day and both were now highly irritable. Neither brain had been allowed full capacity, leaving the day's events less than satisfying. Quite frankly, it was the perfect storm.

Mycroft walked by the kitchen island and immediately snatched the small white envelope with an amused smirk.

"Forget how to read again? I had really hoped you were past this," a young Sherlock teased, masking his nerves as best as possible. The elder ignored his kid brother's remarks. "Mycroft, put it back. Unless you are Mrs. Holmes, it's none of your concern."

"Oh, little brother. When will you learn that whenever 'Mrs. Holmes' is away, I am your guardian?"

"Well she won't be away for long and it's none of your business," the smaller barked while jumping to snatch the paper from the giant brute.

Mycroft was much taller and often used his umbrella as a weapon against the smaller Holmes. His expensive suit, perfect stance, and icy demeanor didn't threaten the short youth in the least. If anything, Mycroft's characteristics gave him Sherlock all the more reason to fight- the classic underdog.

"There's no use in your jumping about. I'm going to read this without your permission or approval," the elder sang more than spoke, his voice mildly frustrated at the child's relentless attempts to stop him. He opened the envelope just as a wretched pain sprung up from his knee. "You little bugger!" the giant hissed.

Sherlock took the opportunity to grab the paper from his brother. His attempts were all in vain. Mycroft raised his hand despite his bent state. The boy still couldn't reach the coveted material.

"Keep this up and you'll have wished I never saw this. This isn't the first time you know, Shirly. I've seen these before. A note from school telling mother how horribly you behaved," he announced. "The poor educator with your name on his roster isn't paid nearly enough to deal with your little stunts. Shame on you for wasting his time and the learning time of your peers."

"What do you care? You wouldn't understand if I told you," the younger growled, upset with himself for not being quicker, or taller.

Mycroft's memory jogged to his own primary school days. He would never confess the details of his own restless childhood years to his little brother. A small grin fell across his lips.

"What was it this time? The teacher spell a big word incorrectly?"

"Stop speaking to me like I'm a child," the boy ordered with a scowl and burning eyes.

After a brief pause, the eldest reiterated, "Did the orthographic aptitude of said pedagogue not comply with your paragon pedagogy?"

Sherlock's brow wrinkled at the two words that fell beyond his own vocabulary. Leave it to Mycroft to be too kind or too cruel with nothing between the two.

"It just bothers me that my chemistry teacher put a 'z' in mesomerism," the boy sighed with a scowl.  
His brother knew he had officially crossed the line he always seemed to dance around. While he enjoyed torturing and stretching the small fellow, he never wished to be accused of bullying. Yet bullying the child was becoming easier with each passing year. Sherlock saw the dark eyes soften a bit before the giant exhaled.

"I wasn't aware they had chemistry in the second year of primary school." It was said gently.

"I excelled to fourth year classes, remember?"

"Heavens, they put you with the eight and nine year olds?" The very notion seemed to disgust him.

"I'm almost seven!" the boy announced in his defense. He hated the way his words came out in a small whine. "I passed the exam to get into the fifth year classes but the teachers wouldn't accept me. Said I was too small to keep up with the others. Though size had nothing to do with it."

"Hardly matters," Mycroft said in that careless manner that drove the younger mad. "If you persist this foolish behavior, they will never consider accepting you in further grades. Yes, you are more intelligent than your peers but you also must behave equally mature. I know that's a stretch for you but do try," he uttered in a sarcastic overbearing tone their mother scolded him for.

As Sherlock raced to his bedroom upstairs, their mother entered the house. She seemed cheerful and carefree. Mycroft argued with himself about showing her the letter.

"Anyone home?" the soprano voice rang from down the hall.

"Hello, mother," Mycroft flatly answered.

"Didn't expect you here today, darling. You look wonderful," the beauty winked while emptying her purse of a few objects.

"Just popping in to make sure all is well."

"As far as I know. Sherlock home?"

He swallowed hard, his decision being made. The boy had to learn the simple truths of society.

"Yes, and I'm afraid his teacher sent another letter home." He watched as anxiety and concern crept across her face.

"Nothing too terrible I hope," she asked with hesitation. Did she really want to know?

He handed her the envelope and began, "Embarrassed the teacher from what I gather. Mr. Jones, I believe- chemistry. The fellow misspelled something and little Sherlock felt the need to share his error with the class." The mother's eyes were midway down the small page when he concluded, "He's done worse. If I remember correctly, Mr. Jones is known for having self image problems. A seven year old, our Sherlock in particular, is harmless."

"Did you talk to him?" Their eyes met.

"I might have said a few words," he sighed with eyes now aimlessly gazing behind her. "Primary school _was_ rather dull."

The mother kissed her eldest boy on the cheek with a knowing grin. Mycroft had often come home with similar letters and now Sherlock was following in his footsteps. They were polar opposites yet identical in more ways than either would ever admit. Mycroft and Sherlock- her two geniuses.

-

The day had been dreadful. School was boring and Christmas break was just weeks away. He had the house to himself until his parents returned home from a bit of shopping- partly Christmas gifts no doubt (he already deduced that he was getting a complicated chemistry set). When he walked through the door, he was shocked to find Mycroft sitting at the dinning room counter.

"What are you doing here?" the boy sneered with a full roll of his eyes. "Nothing interesting enough in parliament? Mum and Dad aren't home yet and I have no use for you."

"Please take a seat," Mycroft asked with a voice too kind to be directed at Sherlock.

"I'd rather stand."

"I insist."

Mycroft's eyes fell to his hands, crossed atop the table, then he began, "Sherlock, there was an accident at the King's Cross station."

"Yes, I heard. What of it?" He didn't like idle chats with the older brute.

"Mother and father were... they died, Sherlock."

The almost teen snorted with disbelief. His brother's words were ridiculous.

"Don't be daft."

"The police phoned me two hours ago. I'm afraid they confirmed the deaths. This is not a game or a trick, I assure you. Just got back from Bart's to identify the bodies myself."

A now teary-eyed Sherlock met his brother's stare for the first time.

"So now what? Will you move back here?"

"Heaven's no. I'm afraid you'll have to come live with me until you graduate."

"Forget it!" the boy hissed.

"You are already several years ahead. It will go by quick enough."

Without another word, Sherlock ran up to his room and sat on his bed. He stared at the wall for nearly two hours before a single tear fell. Another hour passed before he joined his brother in the sitting room, red eyes meeting a smaller similar pair of red eyes.

-

It was almost midnight, 11:59. Sherlock pulled out his mobile and began to type. With memories filling his thoughts, he wished he could use the brain space for information far more valuable matters other then his dark childhood. The text was sent, his brotherly duty complete. Sherlock left his chair to join the sleeping angel waiting for him in his bed.

-

Mycroft had just rested his head on his pillow when his mobile beeped- a text.

12:00am Happy birthday -SH


	13. A Non-Holiday

John's entire attitude changed when Sherlock suggested that they bring Stephanie with them for the case. The detective's argument was that her mind would be helpful for this seemingly complex case. But his best friend challenged the genius by asking which of their recent cases hadn't been "complex". While they had solved a great number of worthy cases before her, Sherlock announced that he felt getting out of London would be good for the girl. Initially, John agreed; Mrs. Hudson had been rather clingy lately and Steph had been dying to get out of the city for days. This case seemed to feed everyone's needs. Sherlock now had a case, John was excited to be in a town so close to some of his family, and Steph could finally get something resembling a holiday- since her rescue, London had quickly become another home to her.

Then a hundred more ideas flooded through John's mind, all reasons why bringing the girl was a bad idea. He was truly torn. Loving Steph like a kid sister was one thing but her being Sherlock's girlfriend would bring the couples spontaneous tendencies to the crime. That wasn't such a bad thing when she helped solve cases close to their home but this was a plane ride away.

"I don't think so. Now that I'm playing everything out in my mind, she would only distract you and constantly being with the pair of you would drive me mad by the second day."

"We'll only be gone for three days and she'll be more of a help than a distraction," the detective chuckled as if he was arguing with a child.

"More? That's just brilliant. I can imagine it now," he groaned, putting the final pair of trousers in his luggage. "I'll almost be asleep and then one of you laugh. The other won't be able to control yourself. Then the noises will start. Quite rude with someone else in the room, I may add."

"Then we'll get a suite." That seemed to be a reasonable solution. "I doubt we would-"

"Oh, you would, Sherlock. If anything you would just because you know I'm dreading it," the doctor replied with a growing temper. "I bet the walls will be bloody thin too," he finally sighed with disgust.

"So it's settled," Sherlock happily announced, too happy for John's comfort.

"What's settled?" the bright eyed girl in the doorway asked with a dress sock in her hand.

Sherlock took a few quick strides before grabbing her shoulders, "Would you like to accompany us to Manchester?"

Her already glowing eyes widened with excitement as she gasped, "Are you sure?"

Before John could further protest, Sherlock smiled, "Certainly. Being away, we could use another set of eyes and ears."

"Yes, and someone else to put into danger. She doesn't have a very good history with-"

"This time is different," the taller man said with confidence.

"I just don't think it's a good idea."

"I'd be more safe with the pair of you than here alone with my aunt," Steph added, finally entering the conversation.

"Yes, and what about your aunt?" John asked with fake curiosity, now simply being impossible.

"Careful, John," Steph grinned. She threw his sock near his luggage and teased, "You're beginning to sound like Mycroft."

Without another word she turned in his bedroom doorway, with that smile still on her sly face, and was to the stairs before John could think of a clever comeback. Needless to say, one didn't come even after the footsteps faded. He looked over to find Sherlock holding in a chuckle.

"Sod off," John sighed snatching the sock from his bed. "And tell her not to bring a swim suit!"

The sock was thrown into a drawer before Sherlock turned on his heels to find his clever beauty. In truth, he was rather pleased at how the conversation had ended. Perhaps John was just a bit jealous or wanted to rid himself of women company for a while. But Sherlock only had a few more weeks with her before she left for months. An almost holiday would be nice. Who would have ever thought? Sherlock Holmes was mixing business with pleasure, with his girlfriend of all people.

Mrs. Hudson, not knowing that Steph was in need of some time away from her, thought the three going away for a while was a wonderful idea. On the afternoon of their late flight, she made them each a cuppa to go. The trio completed their Heathrow tasks and were on the plane at 7:30 sharp for their 7:47 flight.

John was given the window seat, which he was very grateful for, while the others made a game of deducing the most people during their short flight. Sherlock had gotten one more that Steph but only because he got to the set of twins first- "a technicality" Steph called it since he used both boys in the same turn.

The plane landed and the three found their hotel. It wasn't as Grand as John had remembered from his childhood visits but the others didn't seem to mind.

"I made arrangements for a suite and an extra cot," John announced before they were at the front desk.

"A cot?" Sherlock repeated in total confusion.

"The sofas pull out into beds," Steph reminded their doctor.

"Yes, and Sherlock probably won't sleep since he rested last night and you need your rest."

"Surely, there's a chair he could sit in while I doze on the sofa," Steph laughed, finding John absolutely ridiculous at present.

"I'm taking every precaution to make this a case, not a holiday. And the two of you aren't going to… to…"

"Shag?" they asked in unison with flat voices and questioning faces.

"Yes!" John nearly yelled before approaching the gentleman at the front desk.

"He didn't want me here," Steph quietly stated, now catching on to what exactly was going on in John's room the day before.

"Not particularly, but I didn't find a logical reason you shouldn't. As your boyfriend, I at least needed to take you out of London for a few days," he said in the same hushed tone while John got their room cards.

"If it was this much trouble- Maybe he wanted guy time," she interrupted herself.

"_Guy time_? Well, he will have as much as he can put up with after you leave. And that isn't so far away."

His reminding her in that soft gentle voice made her heart tighten. She couldn't imagine going back to her university life after experiencing all of this. Steph didn't even want to think about what boredom awaited her back at school without him there to keep things more than interesting. And of course she would miss John and her aunt as well. But Sherlock was her main concern. How would he take the separation? She had her theories but hoped the most probable didn't come to pass. Coming back to London, leaving her responsibilities behind, wouldn't be of importance if Sherlock became more mad than usual.

"Then let's make the most of our time here, yeah?" the girl suggested with more optimism than Sherlock held in his entire being.

Their eyes locked and mischievous smirks were impossible to contain. Sherlock lovingly took her hand, a gesture rarely performed in public that she savored. She raised herself onto tip-toes as their faces came closer. The world around them was beginning to fade and their long awaited kiss was only a moment away.

"Not a holiday," Watson sternly replied, walking right past them keeping his eyes towards the lifts. The lovers suddenly felt like teenagers who had just gotten caught. But they didn't care. Instead of being good, they finished their kiss then met John who was waiting for a lift. Each remained silent until John opened the door of their suite.

"It'll do," Sherlock sighed, hoping for a bit more.

"Yes, and they will be bringing the cot by-"

"There's no need for one," Steph reminded their friend.

John went into the bedroom and quickly unpacked for the next three days. Sherlock immediately found the window and looked down at the busy street below. Stephanie, on the other hand, was still feeling a bit mischievous. She gave a quick glance around to make sure each man was still deep in his own thoughts.

"Look, darling! The sofa in fact pulls out to make an extra bed," she happily announced.

Sherlock spun around then caught her playful stare. A quick grin and laughing eyes flashed her way before John had time to react. It didn't take but another moment for the good doctor to sprint to the sitting room. A lecture was already brewing in his mind and about to roll off his tongue but then he noticed the impossibility of the girl's claim. That sort of sofa didn't turn into a bed. She was simply pestering him about the already delicate matter. With a grunt and deadly stare, he retreated back into his bedroom.

"Funny," Sherlock whispered, now at the girl's side.

"I thought so," she grinned in return.

John muttered something but neither made out a word of it.

The rest of the night was spent testing John's patience, dinner at the nearest restaurant, and then a nice long shower for Stephanie. John and Sherlock watched telly until the girl came out in one of Sherlock's tee-shirts and a pair of short pink sleep shorts. Her hair was hidden by the comical towel turban but neither male dared to tease her about it. Watson took this as his cue to retire into his own room. He was already gasping for a bit of solitude.

"Well, good night kids. Sleep well, Steph. And Sherlock, please try to be as quiet as possible while you're up fiddling with everything. Nobody leaves this room. We need to stay together."

Steph gave a solute while Sherlock ignored the orders completely. Seconds later, they were alone in the sitting room. It wasn't until their eyes met that the mood became much more intimate than before. Her heart began to speed as his mind took off. It would be possible to have a quick silent shag. They'd have to wait until John was asleep but with the built tension from the day, they would only need a few minutes at most. Sherlock patted the empty seat beside him on the sofa.

Instead of taking her place next to him, the girl pulled the towel off her head and dried her hair as best as possible. The towel was discarded somewhere by the shower then she made her way to the rubbish electric kettle. Back to the loo she went to fill the kettle with water then she was in the sitting room once more. Hotel cups never satisfied her, always too small, and she dreaded the stale taste of the provided tea packets. The maid did a horrible job of cleaning the large mirror that hung above the kettle and cups. For a moment, she wondered if they were here because of sentimental John or perhaps this was as nice a place as they boys were willing to pay for- certainly she could have found a better deal. Steph's silly thoughts continued as she pressed the button to start the boiling process.

From the couch, he took in each and every move she made. It was obvious that she was avoiding him, afraid that if she got too close she would let go. But letting go wasn't the worst that could happen tonight. Sherlock had been rather curious all night concerning her many bluffs since their arrival. Would she jump him the first chance she got? The answer had become no. Yet something told the detective that the thought had crossed her mind multiple times. Even now, she was avoided him by making evening tea- a believable alibi. But he knew her better than that.

Breathing became difficult as she suddenly felt his arms wrap around her waist. When had he gotten up from the sofa? Was she so tired that she didn't notice his movement? Control was maintained until his lips caressed her neck, moving slow and desperately precise. Her head tilted to the other side without her consent, giving him more than enough access to provoke her own undoing.

She didn't whisper his name in fear of waking up John, even if her mouth was already prepared to utter that first sound. It was all too easy for him after that. He knew he had gained control and planned for her to surrender in approximately thirty seconds. Each move of his hands, the pace of his breathing, and each place of skin to skin contact had already been planned while she was trying to delay the inevitable.

"The floor looks rather spacious," he breathed with his lips now tracing her jaw line.

"But we're not sleeping on the floor, are we? You're not even planning to sleep tonight," she tried to argue with unsteady words.

"If I get my way, you won't be sleeping much either, Miss Thomas."

She felt the deep chuckle from his chest against her back, the thin material of her shirt keeping her skin from his stunning black suit. Oh how she wanted to peel the posh thing off him one piece at a time, agonizingly slow to torture him as he was doing to her. But there was John to consider. She didn't want to be a rude guest and a bad friend. The loud click of the kettle saved her.

"There we are," she smiled with a blush. He gave a small whine as she wiggled out of his arms to pour the water and dip the pitiful tea bags. "Would you like one?"

"You made enough for two with the intention of giving me one to distract me," he accused.

"Yes. And it better work because I'm going to sleep right after my cup is gone."

"Needs to cool down a bit first, don't you think? We have a few minutes," he challenged, hinting that they could make better use of the time.

"I need to comb my hair. 'Never go to bed with a wet head' mother used to say."

It was an excuse but another reasonable one. Steph disappeared into the loo leaving a worked up Sherlock unable to move from the place he had been standing. There would only be trouble if he followed her in there, a fact. Part of him wanted to go in to tickle or tease her but they would surely wake John, the thin walls and all. So, the disappointed genius took his paper cup back to the sofa and waited on his lady to return.

When she did, she looked radiant- smiling without a scratch of make-up covering her rosy cheeks and almond shaped eyes. He adored that fact that she liked sleeping in his old cotton shirts but he couldn't explain why if she was ever to ask. Those long legs had wrapped around him every night this summer and he wasn't about to let this night be the exception. She noticed his staring then her pink cheeks became red.

"What?" she grinned, bright eyes sparkling into his.

"Grab your cup, turn off the light, and come here," he softly ordered.

She did as told before cuddling next to him on the sofa. The dark room's only source of light was the window half covered by hideous drapes. They sat together in the dark for some time before he pressed a kiss into her hair.

"You're avoiding me," he smirked, finding her more adorable by the minute. How much longer could she remain calm?

"You're tempting me, Mr. Holmes," Steph stated as fact, an uninteresting one at that.

"You should give in," he growled, his lips coming down to meet her neck again.

"And you shouldn't torture John so." With a giggle she pushed his head away from hers. "You need to be thinking about the case anyways."

"I already have it narrowed down to three conclusions."

"Oh?" He only grinned with pride, eyes shining despite the dark room. "Then maybe he'll have a bit more time to visit with his family." She paused to give him a chance to catch her meaning. "That will give us a bit more alone time… in a hotel suite."

He knew what she meant as soon as she said it. The building anticipation was almost painful but he knew it would be best to wait until John was gone and the case was solved. Yes, the case was top priority- despite what his mind and body were begging for.

"Fine. We'll solve the case, John will be reunited with the family he scarcely knows, and then," his entire body turned towards her with that wicked little grin of his. Those light eyes grew dark then he released a deep breath, some throaty sound filling her ear. His lips pressed against sensitive skin just before he nibbled on her earlobe. "I'm going to be selfish with you." She was too turned on to speak. Sherlock whispered into her ear, "I want you on ever surface of this ridiculous little suite."

Steph giggled as quietly as possible. Oh, how far he had come since their first meeting. Sherlock Holmes, the man without a heart or the slightest idea of romantic affection, had become very comfortable with his sexuality as of late- not that she was complaining. As he had reminded her earlier, they only had a few more weeks to torture and please one another. And then back to real life- away from him and the life she had come to love.

"Deal," she replied with a sexy crinkle of her nose and excited stare. "But for now, we rest."

"I have a better idea. Neither of us are tired at present so…" Sherlock took their cups and placed them on the table. Without a word he moved Stephanie to the far side of the sofa. He plopped onto the cushions as he did at home, his head now in her lap. "Let's see if I can't solve this case before the morning."

"Good luck," she lightly chuckled, keeping this feeling locked in a special place in her mind- saving it for a future day when he wouldn't be near.

Her fingers combed through his curls as he relaxed under her touch. Sherlock folded his hands over his stomach then went to his mind palace, passing the presently tempting room full of her. His breathing calmed and he faded into the world of deduction.

His eyes opened hours later. Her fingers had stopped yet her hand rested on his head. Slowly, he moved until he could see her face. His angel was already fast asleep. Gently as he could, he positioned them to where they were both laying on the sofa. The microwave clock said it was three in the morning. Relaxing once more, with her sleeping peacefully in his arms, Sherlock took a few minutes to memorize how holding her felt. Every part of her had already been memorized yet he didn't want to forget a single detail after she left. Loving someone this much was simple when they were pressed against you. His thoughts wandered to what life would be like after she caught her flight out of London. Would he change or remain the same man he was tonight?

"I love you, Stephanie," he breathed before kissing her shoulder.

The woman squirmed a bit closer into him with a small hum.

When John walked into the room the next morning, he found the two snuggled together on the sofa. Sherlock was curled up behind Steph and they were in the clothes they had on when he left for bed the previous night- from the fully buttoned dress shirt down to his black socks. They looked cute to say the least. The pair even looked as if they were smiling in their sleep, more in love than John could ever dream of being.


End file.
